


forgive us, our wretchedness and our divinity

by boarsnsmores



Category: Rebuild of Evangelion | Evangelion: New Theatrical Edition
Genre: Canon-Typical Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Study, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boarsnsmores/pseuds/boarsnsmores
Summary: It’s never easy to convince her human self that she is also a god, harder still to convince her godly self that she is still human. It should be impossible to do either. Of course, it was also supposed to be impossible to attain divinity by wearing the skin of a dead god.(No one ever talks about just how long a lifetime can be, even when it's not the longest thing she'll ever survive.)
Relationships: Makinami Mari Illustrious/Shikinami Asuka Langley
Comments: 28
Kudos: 32





	1. i. apocynthion

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [my little ribs around you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1296334) by [lisettedelapin (rushes)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rushes/pseuds/lisettedelapin). 



> 3.0 is ridiculously gay and time-skipped fourteen years. Honestly that's free fucking real estate. I played myself though because these two idiots and this fic have lived rent-free in my head for over three years and I am finally evicting them just in time for the 3.0+1.0 release to joss it all.
> 
> Canon-compliant in the sense that it could plausibly take place between 2.0 and 3.0. Also canon-compliant in the same way the Evangelion canon is: I took a hammer to all of it, picked out the pieces I liked best, optimized for maximum angst, and made up shit when the canon itself didn't give a single fuck about explaining things. I could only sift through fan translations of Japanese-only content hidden in obscure games for so long. Wherever possible, sources are cited but this remains a highly speculative and wildly self-indulgent work.
> 
> You can shortcut this entire disaster by reading lisettedelapin's "my little ribs around you" from which I shamelessly and liberally took inspiration from. 10/10 I cannot stress how good that fic is. I read it and then promptly signed a lease on a dumpster.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> apocynthion: n. The point in an orbit around the Moon that is most distant from that body.

The first time Mari falls in love, she’s sixteen - too old for her age and too young for it too. She is a gangly thing, not quite grown into her height and the parts of her that have grown up too fast scrape against the parts of her that have not grown up fast enough. Around them rot the rest of her, stillborn or otherwise aborted. This has not been a kind world.

Looking back now, Mari can admit to a certain level of grandiosity and melodrama in her self-image. Of course these days, such notions have become slightly less metaphysical with predictably disastrous physical outcomes and so she prefers to think of herself as ahead of the curve.

For now, she is sixteen and overwhelmed by the college experience. The campus is so much bigger than she expected and everyone in too much of a hurry to do any more than point her in a completely different and contradictory direction. She’s gone over the campus twice now and at this rate she’s going to miss her very first class completely.

She sighs, resigning herself to the inevitability.

“You seem a little lost. First day?”

Mari turns toward the source. She doesn’t recognize the girl but she’ll take any help she can get right now. She nods, “Just trying to get to-” she glances down at her messily copied schedule, “-Research Building 7.”

The girl gives her a blank stare.

“Professor Fuyutsuki’s metaphysicial biology lecture?” Mari tries again.

She brightens at that, “Oh! Is what what that building’s called? What’re the chances? I’m also headed there! We can go together!”

The girl, Yui, talks aimlessly the entire way and Mari thinks they could be friends up until they reach the lecture hall.

Dr. Fuyutsuki looks up at them as they enter, “I don’t normally tolerate tardiness, ladies.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Yui apologizes, “I was just helping Mari get here!” This draws Dr. Fuyutsuki’s stoic ire toward Mari and Mari decides they can’t be friends after all.

“Do try to be more prepared next time, Ms. Makinami.” He says, “I don’t often allow exceptions to my class entry requirements either. I would hate for you to ruin it for everyone after you.”

This also draws the unwanted attention of the entire class, eager to prove themselves, as well as the TA, who looks at her with assessing curiosity. Mari shies away from their unwavering gazes until Yui drags her along to sit in the front. Even then she feels their presence at her back, like hunting dogs who’ve caught the scent.

“Well then, Ms. Ikari-” Mari hadn’t realized that Yui knew the professor, “-before your arrival interrupted me, I was just about to explain to the class the core tenets of our field. Care to pick up where we left off?” He does not spare Mari another glance.

And as Yui rattles off a textbook-precise answer, Mari decide she hates her, hates everyone in this class, and she’s going to be the best of them all, just to show them that they’re not better than her.

(It’s a lot harder than she thought it would be - the TA, a graduate student by the name of Kyoko, proves to be invaluable. There is an incident involving the lab rats, in which somehow half of the department’s stock ends up released into the hallway. Swearing each other to secrecy, they become fast friends. It would have been hard not to - there are some things in life that once endured together, are forever.)

* * *

“First loves are always rough.” Kyoko tells her after Yui introduces them to Gendo, finding Mari squirreled away in an unused classroom. “Sucks that of all the people she had to pick, it had to be him though.” And at least, at least Kyoko is on her side.

Still, Kyoko leaves at the end of the academic year. Germany, to follow her husband. Mari waves goodbye to her at the airport. Yui, busy, could not make it.

(Forever does not last as long as Mari had thought.)

* * *

The first time they ask Mari to give up everything, there isn’t much to give up.

MI5 knocks on her dorm room door and actually waits for her to open it. In brief - Queen and country ask her to serve. Mari is one of a few specifically qualified candidates for what they have in mind.

They offer to give her the day to decide but Mari doesn’t need that much time. She doesn’t even need however long it takes for Yui to meet up with Gendo, who she knows will be proposing today. She never finds out if Yui sends her an invitation to the wedding; they don’t exactly give Mari a forwarding address when they escort her back to Britain.

Maybe Yui never forgives her for leaving without saying goodbye.

(Years later, Mari can almost hear Yui sigh, a hushed sound interlaced into the hum of the engines. She still does not know.)

* * *

The Evangelion project is still nascent but the work they’ve done so far is promising. In a surprising turn of political affairs, Germany and the UK have agreed to collaborate during these early phases and Germany has sent over their research as a sign of good faith. They’ve not yet discovered the limits of their hubris and Britain is interested in finding out just how far they can trick a dead god into thinking it’s still alive.

Mari skims their work and does not know how she feels, seeing the name K. Shikinami on some of the papers. She does not how she feels, penning her own research with M. Makinami to be sent back to the Germans. She wonders if there is a Y. Ikari at the Japanese branch, reading these same papers.

It surprises her how quickly and sharply the pang of nostalgia cuts at her, the loss still fresh. The memory comes unbidden; they had just fished Kyoko out of a bar before security could throw her out. Yui is chastising a belligerent Kyoko and Mari is trying her best not to drop Kyoko’s dead weight. Mari remembers a time when she could want for no more than a life built out of these moments. Such a future has long since slipped away and in this one all she has are the cruel reminders of what could have been. What else can she can do but hold onto what she still has even more tightly?

She sighs, tucks the memory away for safekeeping, focuses on the problem at hand, and moves, if not on, then forward.

Looking at the beast of burden they’ve chained, Mari knows that everything they’ve managed is nothing but a twitch reflex, scraps of a power beyond their comprehension and certainly beyond their ability to control. They’ll be lucky to curve the path of its intentions, give them a more human slant.

They’ve been arguing with the German division about this for months and a part of Mari wants to call and demand they put Kyoko on the line so that she can tear apart Kyoko’s theories one by one but Kyoko had never called Mari after she left even if she must surely also recognize Mari’s name on these papers and so Mari refuses to break that impasse.

Ultimately, the problem isn’t unsolved so much as no one wants to acknowledge the only solution possible. The Tokyo division thinks they convince, if not god, then a computer to be just human enough to then make god knowable. The German division thinks they can implement suppressors and limiters to make the suggestion stick. Mari thinks, knows, that there is no making something inhuman human. It’s much easier to work the other way around – they’ll convince a human its monstrous enough to become something unfathomable and eldritch. They’ll mar god’s perfection with humanity, use it to drag god into their image and after that, it’s almost disappointing how easy it is to bend a human to a want.

Their combined notes are noticeably sparse on how they intend to integrate a separate consciousness into a corpse and what happens afterwards but there aren’t many options. There’s only one, really.

There is no one better to sacrifice than someone with nothing to come back to and nothing to leave behind. And anyway, there are a trail of dead scientists who’ve come before her. What’s one more?

Mari says yes.

* * *

“Wake up!” Yui says rushedly, “We’re going to be late!”

“Wha-” Mari manages to get out before Yui yanks at the blanket, dragging Mari to the floor yelping.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” Yui cries.

“F’r what?” Mari manages, still groggy. She had been dreaming, of what she can’t quite recall but it had seemed important. Waking up, the threads fray, whatever meaning they held now incoherent. Briefly, she thinks they may be late for an exam but a glance up at their diplomas confirms that yes, they’ve long since graduated from that particular nightmare.

“The keys!” Yui groans, the years of dealing with a morning-adverse Mari have not yet lessened her exasperation at this daily ritual. “We’re picking up the keys today!”

Oh. Right. Mari fumbles for her glasses on the nightstand. She doesn’t see a point in hurrying - if they want her hard-earned money they can wait for her to wake up proper but Yui has always been too kind and with her steadfast determination, they make it to their new house with time to spare.

“You seem distracted today.” Yui says, after they’ve parted ways with the realtor.

“Hm?” Mari says, only catching the latter half. “Oh.” She says, her mind catching up, “Just trying to remember something. I feel like I’ve forgotten something important.”

“The stove was off. I checked.” Yui teases.

“One time!” Mari says, indignant. The pieces of her life slot neatly into this story. She met Yui in college and they dated throughout. Mari proposed to Yui at their graduation and when they kissed, Kyoko threw her hat at them, declaring that it was about time and that they should stop stealing her fanfare. Kyoko has no actual fanfare - she graduated years ago but this is her way of being happy for them. Kyoko went back to Germany after their wedding, she and Yui have taken up professorships, and now they’re about to move into a house, their house. Life is perfect.

“Isn’t it perfect?” Yui asks, echoing her thoughts.

“Yeah.” Mari says, still distracted.

“Kyoko says that with her husband stationed overseas, she’s bored and liable to visit whenever and possibly not leave.” Yui continues, “It’ll be just like old times!”

“Uh huh.”

“Is this-” Yui hesitates, “-is this not what you wanted? We’ve been talking about a house for a while now.”

“No, no.” Mari rushes to say, “This is...this is everything I ever wanted.” That’s the problem. This story of her life leaves no room for the hurt she carries, wounds salted so deeply that she could never forget them. It’s everything she ever wanted and nothing of what Yui wanted. Yui, for all her kindness, harbored a cruel ambition woven subtle but inexorable in all she did. It was why, for all Mari had loved her, Gendo had been the one Yui found kinship with. 

_Gendo._

“Ah.” Mari says, understanding dawning. She remembers now. Yui waits expectantly for an answer. “Hey,” Mari says instead, a weakness she cannot help but indulge. “Come here.” She says and in this world, Yui obliges.

“This really is everything I ever wanted.” she confesses. Yui is warm against her, the metal of her wedding band clinks lightly when it hits Mari’s. The keys to their house are in Mari’s back pocket and she knows that if she were to open that door there’d be nothing but oblivion, this entire world a cardboard facade against the cold uniformity of the LCL.

There’d be peace, if Mari wanted.

A lifetime ago, Yui taught her a conviction that she could be happy so long as she fought for it. “But you have to let me wake up.” Mari finally says.

“You have to wake yourself up.” Yui says automatically.

It’s like tearing off a limb, like clawing out her eye.

“I’m sorry.” Yui says and it’s not really Yui, but Mari takes it with her anyway. She keeps it close, this hollow thing.

* * *

The first sensation is distant. The thud of her shoulder against the cold metal feels like a memory even as it happens. The scatter of voices echo against the harsh white of the walls and she cannot make out the words. Someone is running, their hands are rough against her shoulders.

Slowly, her world comes back into focus.

“By god.” he says, voice the the same rough cadence as his hands, old and familiar.

“Captain Morris?” she chokes out. “How long was I in there?”

He says nothing.

“Shit.” she says.

She grasps at the pieces of herself that scattered ashore when she slopped out of the entry plug, LCL cut from the vein. It is 1990. Her name is Mari Makinami. She is a researcher for the Evangelion project and the first candidate to survive Contact.

(None of these are true. The year is 2012. Mari Makinami ceased to maintain corporeal form during the Contact experiment and as far as the rest of the world is concerned, she never even existed. No one ever really survives Contact.)

There was something to come back to, there must have been. That’s the only reason she’s here and not somewhere where there had been a kind of peace to be found but there is no peace here nor any salvation. M. Makinami, Y. Ikari, and K. Shikinami have all been conspicuously absent from any papers. It drags a bitter laugh out of her when she realizes what must have happened, when confidential files confirm her suspicions. All of them, brilliant in their own way, damned to the same fall from grace.

(“An illustrious future.” Yui declares, squinting at the dregs of her tea cup to divine a future long since wrested from them. “I’m sure of it.” Kyoko scoffs at this and instead contrarily proclaims she sees Death, His ominous figure a silhouette against the sinking sun.)

She fills out the paperwork - Mari Makinami Illustrious, ward of the state, parentage unknown. The bitter aftertaste turns ashen and angry. So be it, she decides. She will be the last of them, the final inheritor of their sins. Who else will carry these burdens? They will die with her.

(Death is an elusive thing and she is only human-

“Is this forever?” Asuka had snarled at her when the price that godhood had exacted from her becomes apparent.

“Forever isn’t so long.” Mari had wanted to tell her but it is a lie much too honest and a truth much too false that she cannot utter it, not even when she dreams about it.)

Captain- no, General Morris looks over her paperwork when she’s done. His hair is much whiter than she remembers. He may be the last person who can even begin to understand Mari’s position. He sighs tiredly, dragging his hand at the stubble of his beard. “I hear IPEA is recruiting spooks.” he finally says.

She laughs that same bitter refrain. The irony is not lost on her; she’s a ghost in all but name.

 _Mari Makinami Illustrious._ This poisoned thing is her inheritance, a prophecy she could not live up to.

* * *

The first time they ask Mari to become a god is also the last time she lets them ask her. After that, she knows that she can never do it again, not if she ever wants to come back.

In the end, it doesn’t matter - the parts of her came back stitched together all wrong anyway. Some days, she’s not sure she ever came back at all. Maybe her body’s just going through the motions, unaware that it should be post-mortem.

(It is more difficult to slip into a god’s skin than to slip into its veins and the mistake, she realizes, was thinking that god was not also stealing her human form for itself.)

In the end, she gets back in anyway. After all, there had been nothing to come back to and nothing to leave behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can no longer objectively determine what order I want to sort these chapters into so it's vaguely chronological and therefore front-loads much of Mari's characterization. It's inspired by:
> 
> \- a (non-canon) chapter in the manga ([source](https://wiki.evageeks.org/Mari_Makinami_Illustrious)) in which Yui and Mari are classmates and Yui gives Mari her glasses. While I don't think that's how optical aids work, I'm here for Mari popping in fake lenses like a goddamn hipster and keeping those glasses for 20ish displaced years.  
> \- A photo in 3.0 of Yui, baby Shinji, and a woman who I am not going to confirm is but looks like it could be Kyoko and therefore they can all be classmates why not  
> \- In the original series, Shinji dissolves in the LCL or something but he comes back after a few months so whatever, Mari can come back after 12 years  
> \- Also in the original series, everyone melted in LCL which offered them what they wanted most? Who they loved most? Something like that. I am absolutely here for whatever AU/motif is "you have to give up the thing you love most because it's not really here"


	2. ii. supernova

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> supernova: n. A powerful and luminous stellar explosion. This transient astronomical event occurs during the last evolutionary stages of a massive star or when a white dwarf is triggered into runaway nuclear fusion. The original object, called the progenitor, either collapses to a neutron star or black hole, or is completely destroyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p2 of what is essentially the Mari-centric prequel I wrote so that I could make as many scenes as I could in 2.0/3.0 that much sadder.

“So you’re the new kid, huh?” Kaji asks, then- “Think fast!” He tosses her two folders which she barely catches before the papers spill out. Before she can say anything else, he’s off, waving as he leaves, “Read up on these! Your clearance checked out so Command wants you up to speed before anything else.” The IPEA logo is crisply stamped on each of the covers and when she flips open the first one she must immediately flip it closed again. In her haste, she misread label as _Shikinami, K._ instead of _Shikinami, A._ It is a cruel reminder that she is a lifetime away from everything she has ever known.

She opens the folder labeled _Ayanami, R._ instead and discovers that they were both losing options.

* * *

“I was wondering where you’d wandered off to. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Kaji says. He’s found her hiding in one of the locker rooms.

His tone is too glib to be natural. “You knew.” Mari says, accusatory when she realizes this. He hums in response. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because this is the job.” He motions for the folders. “Because you’re a ghost now and that means none of this-” he waves them lightly, “can matter to you anymore, not on the job anyway. I need to know that you understand that. Do you?”

Mari doesn’t think she will ever, but he’s not wrong - this is the job now. “Yeah.” she says, “I understand.”

He gives her a lopsided grin at that, “I suppose the first thing we’ll do is teach you to lie better. What does Shikinami matter, anyway?” he asks, “She’s not her mother, you know.”

She balks at that, his invasion made that much starker. “You’ve got a jacket too.” he warns, “So you’d best tread lightly.”

“Smoke?” he offers and shrugs when she declines. “Suit yourself. Oh, and it’s probably best if you don’t tell anyone I gave you those files.” and after lighting his cigarette, he sets the folders alight as well. It feels like a nail in her coffin with her still breathing inside it. She does not know how to fill this silence that has fallen. Kaji, on the other hand - “Now that all of that’s out of the way, tell me, how good’s your German accent?”

It’s terrible, but she learns.

She gets very good at untangling the threads of Kaji’s half-truths and half-lies and the rest of the world’s are trivial as a consequence. When he says _not on the job anyway,_ he means that as far as any agency oversight is concerned, he, Cpt. Katsuragi and Dr. Akagi maintain a strictly cordial, if somewhat strained, and professional relationship. When he advises to _tread lightly,_ he means _don’t get caught_ and she doesn’t, not often anyway. Her jacket remains almost as light as the day she stole it from an unattended cabinet, just to see what they wrote about her.

She learns that information is one of the few currencies that’s maintained its value and never develops a habit of giving it away freely. That a jaunty grin and a skip to her step are the easiest ways to disarm an obstacle, the show of enthusiasm too rare in the aftermath of the apocalypse for someone to be accustomed to.

And should that fail, Mari has also learned every weak point in the human body. There are many.

(“Heard you dropped your first body today.” Kaji says. “Are we celebrating or mourning?”

He decides to introduce her to tequila shots. From the stories Kaji tells, it had been memorable. Mari prefers his stories to the truths she remembers, anyway-

“It is very lonely, being a ghost.” She slurs.

“It can be.” he agrees, amicably buzzed.

“How do you live with it?”

“Aren’t you the one who came back?”

Mari does not know why she came back; she is as empty as the day she spilled out of the plug. Contact was not meant to be survived.)

She understands Kaji’s carelessness better, these days, takes it for herself.

At the end of it all, it seems like half the world wants her dead for the information she might possess and the other half wants her alive for the same reason. Kaji tells her this is how they know they’re doing their jobs. Either way, it’s a very small world that even knows she exists.

* * *

“What do you remember about the ocean?” Kaji asks her, not for the first time.

“Nothing more than you do.” She snaps harshly. They come here too frequently, at Kaji’s insistence. The water here is too blue and too alive and the decontamination process leaves Mari feeling stripped to her bones.

“I was raised inland.” he says. “We thought we had time.” A neat little parable, equal parts warning and counsel.

Mari sighs, “What does it matter now?”

“You’ve always got to have hope, you know.” He tells her. Mari glances over at him, where he’s as exposed as she’s ever seen him, serenity stark on his face. He’d never allow such a tell on the job. She considers the weight of his truth, weighs it against her own.

The truth is, they’ll never see a blue ocean again. It took great and divine force to turn the tides still and red and if they ever saw another force like that, they’d all be dead for it. The truth is, evolutionarily, every living thing on this boat is an endling. Even them.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He says, interrupting her maudlin thoughts. “And you’re not wrong.”

“Then why-”

“Well, what would be the point then? If we couldn’t be saved?”

The scales tip in his favor.

* * *

“I don’t think this is what they mean when they refer to cheap dates.” Mari tells Kaji.

“You’ve got to earn your salary, you know.” he says.

“That soda? You stole a dollar from me to buy it from the vending machine!”

He shrugs, “Hey, don’t look at me. You took it.”

“I can’t believe you thought this would work. I can’t believe this actually worked.” she grumbles but humors him anyway, crouching to sink her fingers into the loamy ground. What a marvelous feat, that something could still grow in their razed and salted world.

He winks, “Never underestimate the power of a handsome face and smile. But you already knew that, didn’t you, agent?”

She smiles back at him, “I learned from the best.”

“Charmer.”

(Kaji knows that for all of Mari’s years, she’s still just a child. After all, there hadn’t been any time for her to grow up. No matter; she’ll have all the time in the world to learn that there is still good in her hands and that they’ll find the good in the earth. It’s a lesson one has to grow into.

Together, they gather up the watermelons that have grown ripe. They’re big this year; a good omen, Kaji thinks.)

* * *

“Tell me, how good’s your American accent?” Kaji asks.

Mari wrinkles her nose at that. She hasn’t had a mission in America in some time. “Which one? Doesn’t matter, it’s all just fucked up English.”

“You say that like English isn’t a fucked up language.” Mari shrugs, a _what can you do?_

“Well,” he continues, “whatever game you’re playing, it’s all coming to an end soon. You’ll be infiltrating as the Fourth Child. Cover’s all there.”

She leafs through the pages, taking in her entire life. It’s easy to slip into these masks, harder to slip them off again. She wonders, as she always has, what there is to come back to.

“It’ll be rough.” he warns, “I hear that America’s lagging in EVA development. This could get messy.”

“What, the EVA or your involvement?” Mari returns. Just as he knows she’s playing her own game, she knows he has his own agenda.

He raises his hands, palms up, “Alright, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

(It’s a good warning - they blow up the unit in the end. From her plug, she flips off the helicopter that should have Kaji in it. Bastard didn’t even make sure she’d ejected yet.)

* * *

Mari’s first impression of Asuka had come from her jacket. She recalls it clinically now (Kaji had burned the file before she had a chance to trace the impressions Kyoko had made in Asuka’s face), captain by age of fourteen, numerous merits in combat expertise, minimal officer training, only the mandatory education for all enlistments, written up for more than a few physical alterations. She dismisses Asuka as important by obligation but not particularly noteworthy. It is not a kind assessment but Mari does not live in a kind world.

Is it a blessing or a curse that Rei’s file was so sparse? Mari finds herself wondering far too often about everything unsaid, this life and all the others.

When she commandeers Unit-02, she ignores the ghosts Asuka have left; they are just as unimportant. She breathes in LCL and tastes the traces of godliness left in this corpse. The barriers of her soul always feel thin in the LCL, like she could take her hand and smear the boundary between god and herself until they were indistinguishable. A dangerous thought to have, considering she barely survived it the first time. When she flexes her limbs experimentally, they are sluggish to respond, resistant to her unfamiliar presence. She can feel an old curiosity at the edge of her existence. “Come on, Kyoko, you’ve never been one to shy away from a fight. This one’s a good one, promise.”

Some of the curiosity abates, that sentiment familiar even if the person isn’t. When Mari had known Kyoko, she would have never been so bold, not when Kyoko was brash enough for the three of them and then some. But Mari hasn’t been herself for a while. She breathes deeply, takes in godliness and homesickness in equal measure. The unrecognizable forms press forcibly against her lungs. “Hello, Kyoko. Long time no see.”

And it feels nothing like college, like anything they had been, but it’s the closest to home she’s come in this lifetime.

The Americans stripped a god to the bone and laid it to rest in the shell of a false idol; all the better to control something they could not truly contain. The Germans thought they could temper one through blood sacrifice instead, hunger pacified and beastliness made docile. They might have been right, but no one’s been stupid enough to prove it one way or another.

Well, Mari supposes, there’s no time like the end of the world to see what happens.

She invites god into her skin. God accepts.

Except, there is already a god living in Mari and no god tolerates another’s stake on what it has claimed for itself. The pain flares up instantaneously as two gods go to war in the way only the already dead can. She can feel Unit-02’s muscle mass shifting, growing cancerously against the restrictors, tearing them from their bushings and rejecting them like the foreign masses they are. God remakes its perfection in this way, splintering apart its ribs in the process and Mari feels the splitting of every shard in each of her bones, all her nerve endings firing to keep up with the terror of becoming once more.

 _Let me in_ it snarls. _Let go. You cannot contain the multitudes in your frail body. Become._

It will kill her, to be a battlefield for the gods, and perhaps in another life Mari would have considered it fair turnabout but all she has is this one life, small as it is, and by birthright it is hers to lay claim to. Mari is both a Contact and a pilot and they may be gods but it is only through her that they’ll live and in this way, Mari too possesses a sort of godliness.

Mari refuses to cede her soul and god refuses to die and between all of them, what remains of Kyoko must try and remember what it was like to be alive. There are too many disjointed consciousnesses to smooth into a shape that resembles perfection. Falling short, they become monstrous.

“Enough!” something tears from their throat - Mari’s, Kyoko’s, a god’s - cacophonous guttural syllables that only resolve in her perception. Mari didn’t realize she’d been gritting her teeth this whole time. _Teeth,_ something agrees and it erupts fangs across their jawline, all of them crowding Unit-02’s sealed maw, digging painfully into their flesh. Not correct, not perfect, but good enough for the task at hand. The armor gives with a snap; human means could never contain a god’s intent, as Mari had always known. It is hard to tell whose bloodlust propels them forward.

Destruction is one of the few universal understandings that gods, monsters, and humans have.

In the silence of the aftermath, she listens for Kyoko’s self-satisfied laughter but Kyoko is long dead and Mari doesn’t remember the sound of it anymore. There isn’t anything here for her - she kicks open the plug and hauls herself out. It’s not really a goodbye but it’s better than what she had before.

(These ghosts will haunt her still. Asuka laughs like Mari thinks Kyoko used to.)

* * *

“Gendo.” Mari greets, “Man, the years have not been kind to you!”

“Mari.” he acknowledges, “I see that you haven’t changed at all. Still a child playing at adulthood.” His gaze lingers on her glasses. Theirs could have been the same sort of grief, once upon a time.

“Better than a man playing at godhood.” she counters.

“False gods should not throw stones from glass houses.” he says, “And I have no time to listen to you prattle. Tell me, what are you really here for?”

She shrugs, “You know, just here for my front row seats to the end of the world. Extinction by way of angel is so banal.” She meets his gaze with a lopsided grin, “I’m curious to see what happens after.”

He weighs her words for a moment. “No, you are merely a coward. You seek the same thing I seek but you are too afraid to reach for it and so it falls upon me to claim it. Stay, if you wish. Serve, and perhaps you may yet reap the fruits of my labors.” His eyes narrow, “But cross me, and I shall make sure you only have one chance to do so.”

“So dramatic, Gendo-kun!” She says, smug at the bristle she elicits. “It’s been a decade.” She meets Dr. Fuyutsuki’s eyes, “Perhaps you should let her rest.” and leaves before anyone has a chance to drag her hypocrisy into the open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know who else just pops into the narrative without a care to pass along cryptic messages? Kaji. Who else is going to teach sad nerd Mari how to be insufferable? And also how to parachute into Japan. That's some spy shit right there.
> 
> \- Confirmed extra-canonically, Mari and Kaji know each other. As far as I can tell, they are both present during the Unit-05 incident in 2.0 and both claim they're using the other for their own purposes.  
> \- ([source](https://wiki.evageeks.org/2015:_The_Last_Year_of_Ryohji_Kaji)) Canonical to the original series, more on the watermelon scene (present in both original and rebuild) and also that Kaji is one of those black-ops agents who get posted to overthrow entire governments (He implies being involved in multiple geopolitical conflicts, the latest of which is the Falkland Islands in 1982 after which he presumably gets tasked to work with the UN/IPEA)  
> \- I did so much research on the UN y'all and honestly, it's not entirely out of character that the UN is a dysfunctional front for some cabal with more money than god trying to bring about the end of the world.  
> \- ([source](https://wiki.evageeks.org/Classified_Information_\(Translation\))) A tl;dr on how EVAs function, the idea of Contact, souls, viable pilots, etc etc etc. Relevant to this fic is that everyone's dead mom is acting as the soul of the EVA and that's why there can only be specific pilots. Do I know why Mari can then canonically pilot Unit-02? Not in the fucking slightest so I made it sad instead. If you're still confused, dw about it so is everyone else.


	3. iii. proprioception

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> proprioception: n. A sense or perception, usually at a subconscious level, of the movements and position of the body and especially its limbs, independent of vision; this sense is gained primarily from input from sensory nerve terminals in muscles and tendons (muscle spindles) and the fibrous capsule of joints combined with input from the vestibular apparatus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Asuka-centric, catches her up to the timeline.

It feels like the LCL dragging her into the undertow for the first time, like drowning. 

“Do you know who I am?”

“This isn’t who I am!” Asuka snarls, her hands tight around her neck. Tendons strain and creak. Something snaps. The doll’s head rolls onto the ground with a thump, the body limp in her hands slipping down to meet it. 

“Dr. Akagi.” Asuka responds, squinting at the bright flashlight.

She drifts in and out of consciousness. Sometimes she wakes up in the hospital to the sound of her heart monitor, slow, steady, present. 

“Follow the light please.” Dr. Akagi takes a few unintelligible notes onto her clipboard. “Pupillary response is good.”

Sometimes she wakes up to the sound of her unit’s self-destruct sequence echoing around her, the rapidfire ratchet of her plug as it fails to eject, the empty clicking of her clip. 

“Can you tell me where you are?”

She reaches out to stabilize herself on the plug’s wall but can’t make contact. She floats unfettered in an eternal and empty expanse. There is nothing but herself, adrift in this sea of everything. 

“NERV Headquarters. Tokyo.”

The forest meets the ocean. The sand underneath her is warm, the ocean lapping at her feet cool. She can hear someone calling her, _Asuka, Asuka. I’ve been waiting for you. You’ve been lost for so long. Why didn’t you follow me?_

“Do you know what happened?”

She’s choking. Her hands grasp feebly at her attacker. Her hands feel familiar. Something snaps. 

“No.”

_Be a good girl, won’t you, Asuka?_ She bolts upright, tearing out whatever it is they’ve put in her arms. A wild swing makes contact with something fleshy. Her arms won’t move when she tells them to and they’re pushing her down and she’s drowning, she’s drowning. 

“What’s the last thing you remember then?”

Asuka dies pursuing victory. There is no glory in it, her body too broken to follow her mind. The vultures feast on her carcass. Asuka does not know if this is a memory or a dream or something else. 

“I was...A dinner party. We were going to have a dinner party.”

It feels like dragging herself out of the LCL for the first time, like surviving.

Dr. Akagi clucks. “Besides the memory loss, everything else is within acceptable parameters. I’d count yourself lucky. There are no signs of biological or psychological contamination but you’ll need PT and some follow up examinations to ensure you’ve regained all your mental facilities and motor control. I’m keeping you here for an overnight observation and after that you’re free to go. I’ll let Misato know you’re awake and aware. I’m sure she’ll want to debrief you as soon as she’s available.”

She stands up to leave and as if it were an afterthought, asks, “Did you have any questions?”

Asuka manages to shake her head.

She waits until Dr. Akagi leaves before she lets herself sink back into her bed. There’s something she’s not remembering, something important.

* * *

They wake Asuka up on a Wednesday.

Officially, at least. They’ve been waking her up for a little under two weeks now. The memories around the time are hazy for her. The only distinct thing she recalls is the awareness that something bad had to have happened that she needed to be woken up from it and that something worse had to have happened for them to need to wake her up.

And then there’s her.

It takes Asuka half a month before she can finally walk well enough to come off of medical leave, much to the protests of her physical therapists. When she walks, with only a slight limp, into Ops she isn’t expecting great fanfare but she was also expecting a little more than a harried wave from Maya as she ran by.

It stings, just how thoroughly the world didn’t need her.

She’s also not expecting the voice that pops up behind her because what the voice asks is, “Finally dared to leave your tower, have you now, Sleeping Beauty?”

What Asuka hears is-

_“What will you do, Sleeping Beauty?” someone in the doorway asks, “When you’ve woken up to find your throne usurped and your kingdom destroyed?”_

Asuka turns on her bad foot, covering up the pain with a grunt and a step forward. All the better, she does best when there’s a fight to be won.

Much to her annoyance, this girl, who can’t be much older than she is, doesn’t back away. If anything, she leans in to meet Asuka. Worst of all, she stands a solid foot taller than Asuka which means that Asuka must look up to glare at her.

Asuka doesn’t know who she is but she already knows she hates her.

The girl smiles, “Well? Cat got your tongue?”

Asuka scowls. “None of your business! What’s someone like you even doing here?”

Sometimes, Asuka barks faster than she can think. Too late she realizes that she’s baited herself. The girl’s too young to be serving with the military as a standard enlistment which means that-

“I’m the designated pilot for Unit-02.” she says, “Mari Makinami Illustrious, present and reporting for duty, captain!” She mock salutes Asuka. “But say, what’s an _ex-pilot_ doing in Ops? I wasn’t aware we were that desperate!”

Misato visited Asuka twice during her recovery. Once to debrief and once again when Asuka was signing herself out. Neither visit had been particularly long and each time only served to remind Asuka of how disposable she was. Even with Shinji incapacitated and Rei missing, Asuka was still somehow the least important out of them.

Misato had failed to mention that this girl was the reason why, although she should have been able to figure it out from what Misato had disclosed.

(Infection. Angel incursion. Rogue pilot. Severe unit damage. Severe damage in general. Transcendence. The near-Third Impact. And Asuka had been present for none of it.)

Asuka growls, “And they had to settle for you? You’re a second-rate hack at best, Ill-”

Asuka only now catches that this girl’s last name is _Illustrious._ She doesn’t even know who in their right mind would call themselves that but she refuses to say it and Asuka doesn’t think they’ll be on a first name basis anytime soon. Preferably ever.

The girl smirks; she’s caught Asuka’s near-slip. Asuka does her best to recover. “I heard about you and how badly you lost your fight. Who the hell do you think you are, stealing my EVA and losing its arm? Some nerve you’ve got!”

“Hey, it’s not like you were doing anything with it!” the girl says. “I heard about you too, you know, sleeping through everything interesting! Although I guess it didn’t really matter. You weren’t even a primary pilot. Just a backup, right?”

The words strike her like a hammer and Asuka feels it shatter her like glass, the shape of herself collapsing inward, despair filling the newly emptied spaces. If she punches the girl now then she’ll lose this fight but she doesn’t care. If she welds herself back together with her rage instead, she can deal with whatever insubordination they accuse her of and when she proves that she’s the only pilot for Unit-02, it won’t even matter. This girl won’t matter.

She keeps talking. “Besides, I found Unit-02 in cold storage. Finders keepers makes it mine, don’t you think?”

“Never.” Asuka threatens, a violence she does not remember being capable of underpins word, leeching her rage and shaping it into something sturdier. “Get the hell out of my way and I’ll show you how it’s supposed to be done, you four-eyed freak!”

The girl laughs at that, bowing deeply and theatrically. “I can’t imagine what prince brought himself to kiss you awake, Princess.” She gestures to the bays, glancing at Asuka to make sure Asuka is enjoying her performance, her eyes wrinkled with mirth. “But please, by your grace. Show me what you’ve got.”

It’s the perfect opening. If Asuka could be assured that her leg wouldn’t give out from under her, she’d kick that knee in. But because she signed herself out at least two weeks before she should have, Asuka settles for heading to the bays the long way.

* * *

Misato doesn’t let Asuka back into Unit-02.

“I can pilot!” Asuka will insist.

“Synchrograph says otherwise.” Misato will reply.

Asuka knows that what Misato really means is “You score lower than she does.”

She hates. Sometimes her, sometimes herself.

* * *

When she dreams, she thinks she dreams about what happened in Unit-03. In her dreams, Asuka sees a lake, perfectly opaque and absolutely still. Her hand skims the surface and the ripples from the motion come a second too slow, as if the water must remember how to be fluid. Her reflection doesn’t shimmer.

The hand that pulls her under only surprises her the first time. When it splits her open, she doesn’t stop it and when it weighs the worth of her, she is undone, found wanting.

She wakes to pains and aches from a bloodshed she does not remember enduring.

It feels like she’s living half in this reality, half in another, and half in something else’s dream. She refuses to ask Dr. Akagi, who looks at her like she’s barely a step up from a lab rat. The textbooks tell her that disorientation isn’t unheard of for post-coma patients. That it might go away. That it might not.

It doesn’t feel like her brain woke up wrong though. It just feels like there’s something she’s not seeing.

She sifts through the carnage that’s been made of her and her hands come back clean.

* * *

“Just concentrate.” Misato says through comms. “You’re doing well today. Up three points.”

Asuka doesn’t understand why this is so difficult when she was literally raised to do this. This EVA is hers by birthright and by sacrifice. It’s _hers._ An old ghost whispers to her _You must open your heart to her._ Asuka makes a frustrated sound, tugging on the controls. Of all the stupid memories to come back piecemeal and unasked for! Truly, she’s sunk even lower than that now.

Then she starts. Something’s wrong. That’s not a memory she remembers ever having.

She grimaces, trying to remember the speaker. It’s Rei’s voice but in all the time that Asuka had ever known her, Rei had never said such a thing. Did Asuka want her to? What good is a memory if she cannot trust that it is true? Did she ever know Rei well enough to distinguish between truth, fictions, and herself? That memory, it’s not, it’s not-

“Asuka.” Misato snaps. “Stay focused. You’re dropping.”

Asuka breathes LCL, feels it steady and slow in her lungs. She can do this. She has to do this.

* * *

Misato formally designates Asuka as Unit-02’s backup pilot. Her sync ratio is just high enough that she could theoretically pilot but they’re not high enough to compete with _her’s,_ even if Asuka has hundreds of logged hours in LCL and extensive field experience over her. It doesn’t even help to bring this up, not when there’s readily available evidence that Asuka is not the only pilot capable of manning Unit-02. Only the best are designated pilots, after all. Asuka’s own words.

She signs herself up for every available testing slot instead. She learned how to do this once, she’ll do it again.

There are few good days.

More often than not, she’ll reach threshold and begin calibration tests. She’ll manage to link up to most systems until she must recognize her own left arm, at which point the slicing phantom pain of losing it will interfere with her concentration, frustration folding back on itself until her ratio falls below threshold.

The worst days are when she climbs out of the plug and comes face to face with her. Once, Asuka finds her there, already waiting.

“You’re over time.” she says.

“Deal with it.” Asuka retorts, uncaring.

“Okay.” she says breezily, “My scores are fine anyway.”

“Don’t you dare!” Asuka bellows, that frustration clinging to her like the LCL, “This is all your fault! It’s your damn left arm I can’t sync up with! What did you do out there? If you’ve ruined my unit, I swear I’ll- I’ll-”

Asuka can’t finish her threat. What can she do? It’s not her name that’s labeled primary pilot. She has nothing without that. She’ll be nothing without that.

“Ours.” the girl corrects. “It’s yours as much as it is mine. The arm, the unit. You’re the only person stopping yourself from getting back in there.”

“It’s mine.” Asuka mutters, refusing to give that up even if it means she must claim an arm she just renounced. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t lost the arm.”

“Prove it then.” she baits. “And you’re right. If I hadn’t lost the arm, we wouldn’t be here at all. For everything we gained, what a small thing to give in exchange, don’t you think? An arm we eventually stitched right back on.”

She leaves Asuka there to think about it and Asuka doesn’t like it, but must concede that she understands. She’s already given up every other future she’ll have for this one. What’s an arm compared to that? In the same position, she would have made the trade too.

It helps. The next time Asuka runs through the calibration tests and her ratio drops in response to the memory she never had, she says “Quit it,” unsure of exactly who she’s chastising. “You’re my unit, even if someone else has piloted you. Okay? It’s fine because this is where I belong and I’m going to prove it.”

Any lower and she’ll crash out. “So come on! Let’s prove it! We’ll show them that there’s no one better than me to pilot you!” She tenses as the worst of the pain arcs through her shoulder blade and logically, she knows that the plug’s detached from her unit. It doesn’t stop her from feeling the sudden cold sensation of metal, both her hands shaking against the clamps, trembling in anticipation as they accede to her wants. They are in accord, the compact signed with their blood. Still, it’s only when the calibration tests finish their cycle through with an all-clear that she can breathe easy again.

She emerges triumphant to Misato and Mari watching her. Misato nods in approval and Asuka basks in it. Mari waves at her, immediately ruining the moment.

Asuka did not realize it was possible to hate someone this much.

“Hey. Four-Eyes.” she calls out. She's not whole again, not yet, but this is the closest she's come since she woke up. She can play this game now.

Mari grins at her newly minted nickname, taking none of the intended offense at it. “Yes, Princess?”

“You’d better watch your back. I’m coming for what’s mine.”

Mari laughs, delighted at the challenge. “Well then, catch me if you can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- tl;dr you're probably okay if you don't remember anything/didn't watch original series and/or End of Evangelion bc I certainly haven't watched them since my original binge years ago but more references make more sense probably  
> \- There's a p2 to this and both chapters draw from the original series and The End of Evangelion (the one where they get the budget to actually animate the finale) ([source](https://wiki.evageeks.org/The_End_of_Evangelion))  
> \- In the original, Asuka's mother is the Contact for Unit-02 and she physically survived but left her "maternal component" inside. She's institutionalized and thinks a doll is her kid, invites her actual kid into a suicide pact, and then commits a double suicide w/her kid-substitute doll via hanging ([source](https://wiki.evageeks.org/Kyoko_Zeppelin_Soryu)). It's fucked up!!! Original series Asuka hates dolls as a result but rebuild Asuka carries one with her and talks to it. Make of it what you will.  
> \- In both the original and the rebuild, the angel that infects Unit-03 is Bardiel ([source](https://wiki.evageeks.org/Bardiel)). It's Toji in the unit in the original and he loses a leg bc of it. They put Asuka into the unit in the rebuild and it suggests that Asuka gets fucked. They really shortcut that decline bc in the original she gets progressively worse, culminating in Arael's attack on her which I think is the last of Asuka until the End of Evangelion ([source](https://wiki.evageeks.org/Arael))  
> \- simulation bodies ([source](https://wiki.evageeks.org/Simulation_Bodies))


	4. iv. solipsism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> solipsism: n. The philosophical idea that only one's mind is sure to exist. As an epistemological position, solipsism holds that knowledge of anything outside one's own mind is unsure; the external world and other minds cannot be known and might not exist outside the mind.

Her limp eventually goes away but her scores stay stubbornly below Mari’s. Dr. Akagi confirms that Asuka has recovered fully, physically at least, and Misato suggests that it’s something in her head. Asuaka agrees – it is the lyrics to “I’m Not Alone”, one of the many terrible and unfortunately catchy songs that Mari sings. Asuka is more concerned with what is not there, what she has not been able to reclaim as she remakes herself. She knows the answers are in her unit. If only she could get back into it, then she’d know for sure.

She gets her chance when Central Dogma alerts them to an incursion.

“Is it an angel?” Misato asks Hyuga.

“Unsure, Colonel.” He reports, “Long-distance scans aren’t picking up any blue blood type readings but we can’t be sure until it’s in primary scan ranges.”

Misato exhales forcibly. “Mari.” She barks into comms, “Suit up. I want you on standby.”

“About that.” Mari says. Misato already knows she’s not going to like what Mari’s about to say. “You may want to revisit the idea.”

“What do you mean-”

A red flash on the command center monitors alerts Misato that someone’s launched Unit-02.

“Who the hell authorized launch?” She yells. Pointless; she already knows the answer.

“No one, Colonel! Manual launch was initiated from the bay!” Aoba confirms.

“If Mari’s still here...Asuka!” Misato yells into comms, “Asuka get out of there!”

“Oh never mind. There she goes.” Mari interrupts, bemused, “What an Asuka thing to do, huh?”

Misato does not share Mari’s bemusement. She turns to Ritsuko, “Shit! Does she even have her plugsuit?”

Ritsuko, already on the phone with Unit Support, shakes her head.

This is bad, Misato thinks. Asuka’s improving but her scores are still inconsistent, even with her plugsuit. They can’t afford to lose Asuka or their last EVA.

“Mari! Get out there. We’re sending you out with a ground team and doing a hot extraction. I’ll need you to get into Unit-02 the moment we get Asuka out.”

“Sounds dangerous! I’m in!” Mari says cheerfully before cutting out.

Misato is certain that it’ll be these two, not angels or gods, who’ll send her to an early grave.

There’s no time for self-pity though. “Maya, get ready to force eject on Unit-02. Aoba, we need weapons support. Hyuga, keep monitoring the incursion object. The moment we can confirm if it’s an angel or not, I want to know.”

“It’s no good! Asuka’s shut off all contact between us and her and her unit’s rejecting all of our commands- I can’t get anything through! All we have is output data!”

Misato’s out of options. She can’t cut power to Unit-02. Doing so will hamstring Asuka and surely get her killed. Mari will be out with the ground team but if they can’t get Asuka out then they can’t get Mari in. This is the limit of what she can do - the rest she must leave in the hands of children playing at god. The thought makes her angry, but there is also no time for anger. She growls under her breath, “You’d better know what you’re doing, Asuka. We can’t afford mistakes anymore.”

* * *

It’s so quiet. Asuka hadn’t realized it could be so quiet in the plug without comms or system reports. All that makes a sound is the occasional bubbling slosh of LCL as she breathes and shifts.

It feels weird to be in here without her plugsuit but there’d been no time to get suited up, not if she wanted to beat out Four-Eyes. She tentatively pulls at the controls and breathes out a sigh of relief when Unit-02 flexes its hand in response. She’s still a pilot. She can still do this.

* * *

“Oh no.” Hyuga says.

“What does ‘oh no’ mean?” Misato says, steeling herself for the inevitable bad news.

“It’s not an incursion object. It’s an incursion fleet.”

Misato’s looking over Hyuga’s shoulder in an instant. “Get through those comms!” she yells at Maya, “We have to warn Asuka! And someone get me the artillery division on the line!”

* * *

Asuka broke into the cages the moment the alarms started ringing and cut off comms the moment it was too late to stop her. All of this is to say she doesn’t know what she’s fighting, when it’ll arrive, or where it’s coming from. Behind her, the artillery batteries rise. Misato must have asked them to support her. She considers that approval or at very least the acceptance that this will be Asuka’s fight.

They lock into place and Asuka follows their trajectory, squinting into the horizon. She hears them fire behind her, short barrages punctuated by longer ones. The horizon remains clear. They fire again and this time Asuka recognizes the pattern: ... --- ... ----. ..- ..-. --- ... --- … (SOS 9 UFO SOS)

She raises her hand in a ready sign to acknowledge the warning. It won’t change anything for her. The guns still and then: --. --- -.. ... .--. . . -.. (GODSPEED)

When she looks to the horizon again, she can make out the specks of whatever is coming for them. It’s the adrenalin, Asuka thinks, that has her so on edge.

They circle her like vultures, their shadows blotting out the sun in flashes. It’s like a dream made into reality. Even then, her reality is unsteady; she can’t tell if these are angels or EVAs. They look as though a child remembered both as one.

She doesn’t remember this dream ending well.

When she unsheathes her knife, her hands tremble more than she’d like. There is no Shinji, no Rei, only her. If she fails now, they all die. She can’t fail.

She shifts into position as they descend upon her. Her legs uncoil and she pounces. First contact jars her bones but she pushes onward. Everything she’s ever trained for, everything she is, it’s all been for this moment.

* * *

“Ground team, your new directive is to protect that umbilical cord. Buy Asuka as much time as you can. Mari, get back here. We can’t get you into Unit-02 so get off the battlefield.”

“And miss all the fun? I don’t think so!” Mari’s voice buzzes back to her, “And besides, I’m pretty sure they’re after you, not us on the ground here. Good luck!”

Misato lets herself miss Rei just slightly, the only pilot she could ever count on to do as she was asked.

* * *

Asuka can’t break free of their containment formation. She moves so slowly, her limbs can’t gather enough momentum to break free of their inertia. Was she always this slow? Was this why she wasn’t the one to save them? She shoves into one to break the ring but the others reform around her, maintaining their distance. She can feel them watching her even though their faces bear no eyes, hear them laughing at her even though their mouths have been contorted into a twisted facsimile of a grin.

It’s almost as if they’re toying with her. As if they think she’s nothing but easy prey. She’s not - she’s Captain Shikinami, youngest enlist to ever make that rank, best EVA pilot they’ll ever have, and she’s never going to be prey.

* * *

“I’m getting an increase on the synchrograph!” Maya reports.

Misato can’t do anything from command but watch. She grips at nothing. “You can do this, Asuka. You have to.”

* * *

Asuka roars, running full speed at one of them and dragging it away with her from the pack. At last, she feels settled. She’s Captain Asuka Langley Shikinami, her EVA’s pilot, her EVA. Slamming it into the ground, she digs her fingers into the fleshy part of its throat. With little resistance, its neck splits open under her and she tears it apart. Its blood is slick on her fingers. The core cracks like glass. Her knee sinks into its chest as it exhales its last.

She gets up, a sinuous motion too smooth to have been human. One down, eight to go. She turns back to face her prey-

and a lance pierces her left eye, pinning her to the ground.

* * *

“Asuka! Asuka! Turn on your damn comms!” Misato rages.

“Plug’s gone dark. Readings have gone into the negative range.” Hyuga says, having taken over for Maya. She’s always had too soft a stomach for the work they do.

* * *

_Asuka. Wake up, Asuka._

Someone calls to her. She opens her eye. Eyes. Here she is again, adrift in this sea of everything. She blinks, willing this world to come into focus. This person into focus.

“Wonder Girl?” she can’t keep the surprise out of her voice, “Where have you been?”

_Here. I’ve always been here._

Rei looks as Asuka remembers her looking, perfect as marble and similarly cold. “Well what the hell are you doing here instead of fighting out here? Fat load of good you’ve been!”

 _Waiting. Waiting for you._ Rei extends her hand for Asuka to take. It is as unblemished as the rest of her. Pygmalion had carved himself a perfect bride.

There it is, that feeling of wrongness again. There is no room for the human in the perfect so where can Asuka place the memory of Rei’s cut hands or her firm grip as it stilled Asuka’s violence? The image does not cohere. “No way.” Asuka finally accuses. “You’re not Wonder Girl. Just who are you?”

Rei - no, the thing that looks like Rei - floats toward her. Asuka makes a flailing motion to back up but she doesn’t move at all.

 _I am a Rei. Just like you are an Asuka._ Her hands grasp at Asuka.

Panic suddenly grips at her; she claws at a noose that was never around her neck. “What does that even mean? I’m Asuka. There is no other me!”

_There are many Asuka’s. Just like there are many Rei’s. There is the Asuka in your mind. The Asuka in this Rei’s mind._

“And which Rei are you, then? Can you even tell yourselves apart?” The edges of her consciousness blur. Asuka can’t feel her fingers. Asuka isn’t sure she has fingers to feel. This Rei draws closer but Asuka refuses to back down. This close, Asuka can imagine the lingering ghost of her breath, the air between them unmoved, the falsest of kisses. They are both actors in this theatre of intimacy. Asuka has never felt more alone.

_The Rei of another Asuka’s memories._

Asuka finally remembers.

In another lifetime, just similar enough to this one to be unsettling, Asuka dies. They all do. Is this a universal constant, then? To fail? Were they only ever meant to die?

The knowledge of the universe is too much for her to bear and she breaks free of Rei’s grasp, curling in on herself. She is Asuka. She is Asuka. There is no Asuka but herself. She is real. She must be real. She is not a doll. She is not replaceable.

_All your pain, all your hurt, your shame. It hurts because you are alone. If you join us, you never have to be alone again. You can rest, Asuka._

When Rei says that, Asuka remembers that she’s tired, so very tired. All she’s done is fight and now, floating in nothing, she wonders what it was all for. If she closes her eyes now, surely she can rest, just for a bit. Then she’ll keep fighting. Rei hugs her. Asuka lets her because she’s warm and Asuka is so very cold.

_No!_

A voice, sharp and clear, reverberates through the expanse. It tears Asuka out of Rei’s grasp. Rei, who has become bulbous with rot, eyes sunken into their sockets.

_It’s not your time. You must keep fighting, Asuka._

Asuka hesitates. The memory is so old, so faded from remembering that she can’t be sure she’s still remembering it, or just the memory of her voice. “Mama?”

_Keep fighting, Asuka. I’ll always be with you._

“No! Wait! Don’t leave me again!” The words _I’ll be a good girl_ die in her throat. She can’t promise that, not anymore. Not even to save an Asuka who lived a decade ago. In the absence of her presence, Asuka is cold again but now she knows that whatever this Rei’s promising is a cold thing too, so cold that it burns her.

_Asuka, Asuka._

“Fuck off! You want to stay around here feeling sorry for yourself, that’s fine! Go ahead! I’m not interested!”

The voice turns cruel, the Rei’s visage shifting into new ones, Misato, Dr. Akagi, Shinji, Hikari -

 _Don’t you want to-_  
_\- rest? There is a price-_  
_\- for being human-_  
_\- loneliness hate anxiety shame._

_You don’t have to be alone. You don’t have to bear this knowledge alone. We’re waiting for you, Asuka._

The expanse, impassive in its existence, reddens with the blood that leaks from the Rei’s sockets. Asuka chokes on it.

“Then keep waiting, Wonder Girl!”

Rei drives a spear through her eye.

And in the whiteness of her pain, clarity.

* * *

By some miracle or more likely, Asuka spasming, two-way comms flickers back in. Everyone in command center hears Asuka screaming, the sound reverberating in the space as Unit-02 tears at its face to get at the lance. Its hands fumble around, grasping feebly at the lance.

One hand, then the other, finds purchase onto the shaft. Unit-02 grips. The slightest twist in its hold and-

Asuka’s screams take a different timber as she wrenches the lance away from her face. Pieces of her face armor come off with it, loosening her lower jaw. Teeth, ill-set when they were grown, fall out by their roots. Her tongue lolls out limply. The eye lands somewhere in the forest.

There is no sound in the world but Asuka’s, her voice breaking with her battle cry, blood dripping, breath heaving. Everything stands in hushed witness.

Then, she explodes into motion.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” She screams, raw and terrible, “I’ll fucking kill all of you!”

She drives the lance into the second unit’s chest until she meets the sharp resistance of its core and then further still until the tip of her spear meets with air. When another unit leaps at her she throws the corpse in its way, twisting to get out of range. The umbilical cord pulls taut as Asuka skids across the forest floor. She severs it. Five minutes is plenty of time.

When a fourth and a fifth unit come at her she pulls out her second knife and hews off the fourth’s arm and the fifth’s leg in one motion, finishing it up by ramming the tip into the sixth’s chest, which lets her but refuses to relinquish the knife. Asuka is more than happy to release her grip, instead preferring to tear it apart with her bare hands. She pick up one of the limbs she’s relieved and repeatedly bashes in the seventh’s skull.

The eighth one tackles her to the ground, tumbling to pin her arms and expose her body for the second and ninth one to ravage. Their claws shred at her as their teeth grope around her organs, consuming her. Asuka feels each rake and tear. The blood from her eye mixes with LCL and she breathes it in anyway, lets herself choke on it.

She is a god of war and this is the sacrifice at her altar.

* * *

“Oh my god.” Hyuga says. Unit-02 groans as it’s being consumed but still manages to lift itself before falling forward into one of the unit eating it, its jaws working through armor and flesh until it finds the core, crushing it. Then, it thrashes around blindly until it pulls itself free from the eighth unit’s grasp and jams its thumbs into the sealed eyelids, tearing apart its face. It throws itself into the last unit, pounding at it until something, many somethings, give with a sickening crack.

“Unit-02 hit operational limits thirty seconds ago. This shouldn’t be possible.” Aoba says.

In the stillness of the aftermath, Unit-02, unable to get up from its knees and hands, cranes its neck around and keens, looking for a fight it’s already won. Its organs drip slowly onto the ground with a sloshing thud.

“Impressive.” Ritsuko says callously. The smoke from her cigarette fills the room.

* * *

There is nothing left of her left eye save for some messy pulp and the free flowing blood. Asuka’s attempts to staunch the bleeding do nothing and instead she settles for pressing her hand against the bone to try and ride out the pain.

“Fight me!” Asuka yells, “Get up! I’ll show you all!”

“Hey!” A small voice shouts from below her. Asuka swings her head down to meet this new challenger.

Mari waves. “Fight’s over, Princess! Pack it up so we can all go home.”

Asuka remembers that she hates this girl. Her hand comes down to squash her, this insignificant insect. She tries to roar but all that comes out is a groan that peters out despite her best efforts.

To her credit, Mari doesn’t even blink when Unit-02’s hand lands around her. “Yeah, yeah, we get it! You’re the biggest and baddest of us all! But you’re still human; so let’s get you out of there and deal with what’s probably a really nasty injury! The kind that’ll either kill you or leave you with a really sexy scar and I dunno about you, but the latter definitely sounds more appealing to me.”

She makes a ridiculous thumbs up motion. It’s so incongruous with what Asuka, god of war, expects that she must become Asuka, just Asuka, to process it.

Unit-02 powers down and collapses in on itself.

“What a drama queen.” Mari says before wandering off. Ground team can handle this. It’s what they were out here to do anyway.

* * *

With the immediate threat over, Misato now has time to worry about administrative things. She’s going to ban the phrase “operational limits” until someone can tell her what that bullshit actually means. She’s going to make everyone go over EVA security protocols until they can recite it in their sleep. They are going to run drills for _months._ She’s going to fire a lot of people and sign off on all the paperwork with immense prejudice. She’s going to court martial Asuka. She’ll do it twice just for good measure!

“I wouldn’t.” Mari says, having wandered into the observation bay.

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t court martial her and you as well! Insubordination is the least of your offenses!” Misato yells. Ritsuko has chided her about her high blood pressure but if Misato keeled over right now at least she’d finally have some goddamn peace.

Mari leans against the window, watching them haul what remains of Unit-02 into its station. One of the techs takes a pair of cutters to the plug entry point.

“Because if you do, you won’t have anyone to pilot Unit-02. It certainly won’t be me in there anyway. I’m resigning from my post as Unit-02’s primary pilot.”

Below them, they’ve managed to get the plug out of Unit-02. Asuka stumbles out, refusing any help and snapping at the medics that’ve gathered around her. One of her hands is pressed against her left eye. She manages two wobbly steps before she falls down unconscious and they get her onto a stretcher without any further protest.

Mari sighs against the window, watching her breath condense on it, “After all, a mother will always pick her daughter over her friend.”

Ritsuko looks over at that.

* * *

“You know something.” Ritsuko says to Mari in the medbay.

“Many somethings.” Mari confirms, “But I suspect you’re fishing for one something in particular.”

“Just who are you?”

“Ah, it saddens me that you’ve already forgotten me, Rit-chan!”

“How dare you! You disrespectful bitch! Who are you to call me that? I’d never met you before you hijacked Unit-02.”

Mari smiles. She raises her hands, palms up. A gesture of peace. What she says is anything but. “That’s alright. The symposium wasn’t that memorable anyway. At least, beyond what your mother and you presented. Fascinating woman, you know? Most interesting ideas about the nature of humanity. I could certainly see how between the two of you, the Magi were birthed and perfected.”

Ritsuko flinches at the old memory, from a time when she still scraped desperately at her mother’s approval. She bites back the emotions, angry that the mention of her mother could lapse her control so readily. “Impossible. That would mean- you would have to be-”

Mari puts a finger to her lips. “Our secret for now, yes, Rit-chan?” She hops off the bed and ambles out with a jaunty wave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is so long and I say that after I broke it up into two chapters.
> 
> Notes:  
> \- Mari sings that song in the opening space scene in 3.0. It's from 1972 so just imagine Mari constantly singing old popular songs and Asuka only ever knows them from Mari's singing on account of the entire multiple near-apocalypses destroying readily available records  
> \- It's morse code. Why use the guns instead of literally anything else? For the same reason Shinji gets to run on blast shields. It's canon-typical extra.  
> \- If you watched/remember Death of Evangelion, this chapter should be familiar. It's a very cool scene that unfortunately ends with Asuka getting stabbed repeatedly and then probably blowing up.  
> \- The MP EVAs can regenerate on account of their S2 engines unless their core is destroyed ([source](https://wiki.evageeks.org/Mass_Production_Evangelions)) but that was a lot of words to cram into the scene so just use your imagination  
> \- Asuka realizes her mother is in the EVA with her and that allows her to pilot again despite having been super depressed up until that point. Her mother is both there to support her but also wants her to complete the suicide pact. It's very fraught and I am toning down the fraught so I can invest it somewhere else.  
> \- It's more probable that Asuka lost her eye in the Unit-03 incident but she lost that eye in Death of Evangelion first so I'm assuming it's also inspired by that scene.  
> \- That eye glows ominously behind the patch in 3.0 and it is _never explained._  
>  \- Who knows why EVAs can regenerate but they can and more relevant, they can apparently grow into whatever shape they want. In 3.0 Unit-02 becomes sabretooth-like but even before then, the teeth it has in 2.0 is different than the teeth it has in 3.0. None of this is ever explained either.  
> \- I have many least favorite parts about the story of Pygmalion, namely the entire thing and also that at the time of writing, the statue didn't have a name. It's Galatea in modern reference but that came after Ovid's Metamorphoses. Rei rejecting Gendo in the original series is the correct response to Pygmalion imo.  
> \- LCL would drown you immediately just an fyi. Straight up pop your bronchioles. This is such a stupid thing to get hung up on but here I am.


	5. v. pareidolia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pareidolia: n. The tendency for incorrect perception of a stimulus as an object, pattern or meaning known to the observer, such as seeing shapes in clouds, seeing faces in inanimate objects or abstract patterns, or hearing hidden messages in music.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter exists (almost) solely to make a scene in 2.0/3.0 sadder. There are also practical plot considerations but really it was mostly to make things sad.

Mari considers the following hypothesis: Rei died saving Mari.

It is, by pure technicality, a true statement. Rei pulled Mari out of the critical blast radius and then she died. Because the missile blew up. Even an EVA can’t survive the close-range detonation of an N2 missile and in any case, Unit-00 was subsequently consumed and integrated into an angel’s body.

It’s more accurate to say that Rei died saving Shinji.

It’s closer, but still not quite correct. This one does not explain why Mari is still alive nor that moment in between Rei saving Mari and Rei dying, her voice crackling through the static, a voice Mari last heard in her dreams for twelve years in that lifetime she never lived, all of her recollection and her imagination grinding together and incohering.

Perhaps Mari will never know, in the same way that she never really could know Yui. Perhaps all Mari can say is that Rei was willing to die if it would save Shinji and that saving Mari was happenstance because Yui- Rei, couldn’t help but be kind when the opportunity presented itself.

It all sounds a lot like an apology she stole from a love she never really had.

Not that any of her conjecture matters. It changes nothing; Rei remains very dead. Mari believes this with statistical certainty. The statistics makes this her very scientific and therefore very accurate opinion.

Of course, statistically, anything can happen.

* * *

“I don’t know why we run so many tests.” Asuka complains, itching at her new eye patch, “They say the same thing every day. We’re just wasting time.”

“You already know the answer to that.” Misato says, tired of going through the same conversation. “We need to know if anything changes in your condition.” She says condition like she means sync ratios. Everyone knows what she really means is “if your contamination spreads.”

“Relax, princess!” Mari says over the intercom, “Enjoy the time off!”

Asuka mutters something unintelligible but no doubt insulting under her breath.

Misato interrupts them. “And we’re done. Scores are holding steady. Good job, both of you. Get cleaned up and report to-”

Mari hears the door to Ops open, the sound of a lab coat rustling, a wave of murmuring, and then Ops comms cuts out. “Well. That seems interesting.” she says. Over visuals, she can see Asuka frowning.

* * *

Misato is waiting for them outside of the locker rooms after they’ve both cleared the sanitization protocols. “Come with me.” she says curtly before turning around and heading back out just as sharply.

“I thought it would be best if I told you this.” she says in the hallway. Based on their trajectory, they can only be on the way to the medbay. The way she says it, Mari suspects that Misato didn’t have the same favor extended to her. But whatever Misato intended to say, she doesn’t. Instead, they reach the medbay and she says, “Well, I suppose you’ll see soon enough.”

Statistically improbable does not mean impossible and often times, it is less improbable than statistics would suggest. This is true more often than not in their line of business.

“Wonder Girl?” Asuka yelps. “What are you doing here?”

“Recuperating.” Dr. Akagi says. “Her integration and subsequent extraction from the Tenth Angel were as of then unheard of phenomenons and required thorough investigation and subsequent observation to ensure that she recovered fully.” She tucks away the file she had been holding, and continues pointedly toward Misato, “Now that she has, she’s free to return to active duty, if Operations deems that proper.”

She brushes past Misato, leaving the four of them standing in the remaining awkward silence.

“Hello.” Rei finally says.

That’s enough to spark Asuka. “Hello?” She asks, anger boiling up and welling in her tone, “You blow yourself up, go missing for months, suddenly show up again as if nothing’s happened, and all you have to say is ‘Hello’?”

“Yes.” Rei responds.

Asuka’s stance shifts, the tide of her anger about to crest as violence.

“Asuka.” Misato warns, seeing the signs.

Asuka huffs and crosses her arms. “Fine! See if I ever do anything nice for anyone again. Honestly, it’s a miracle any of you ever get anything done!”

“We don’t have an EVA for you to pilot.” Misato tells Rei, “Unit-00 was damaged beyond repair in the near-Third Impact and with NERV’s current standing, it’s unclear if we’ll be able to procure a suitable replacement unit. We can assign you as a provisional pilot for now. Just in case and if you’re up for it.”

“Okay.” Rei says.

“It’s good to see you well and alive.” Misato tries.

“Thank you.”

Misato sighs, “If that’s all, I suppose I can show you to your quarters. Mari, Asuka, you’re free until training.”

As Rei walks by, Mari leans in to take an experimental sniff. “Huh.” she says.

Behind her, Asuka groans, “Do you always have to be so weird? Stop that.”

Mari does not stop. In fact, she inhales deeply and loudly against the backdrop of Asuka’s chagrin. “It’s strange.” she says, straightening, “For a pilot, you don’t smell like one at all.”

Rei remains silent, her gaze an unmoved listless thing.

* * *

Mari slips away from the group as soon as she can. When she’s sure she’s alone, she lets herself slip down on the wall. Lets the harsh cold of the hallway center her. She has always known her ghosts were never laid to rest. They tower over her and cast great shadows, pointing to a north star she cannot see and cannot help but follow anyway. It’s one thing to have seen the pictures in the file, to have heard the fuzzy afterimage of it through the delirium of her madness, but to see a face long dead made flesh again, to hear the voice of her ghost as sharp and clear as when it still had an earthly persuasion-

She inhales sharply and forces herself to exhale slowly. There is something Gendo is not telling any of them. He has always been the scheming sort and she has no reason to think that the years have changed him. The only person who could sway him to muster up the pretense otherwise is long gone.

Let the soldiers have their war. She has her own war to prevent.

She easily bluffs her way past the tech on duty in SATCOMMS, ushering him out and locking the door before he can think to protest. It’ll be a brief call, long over by the time anyone thinks to stop her.

“I’m calling in a favor.” Mari says over the line. “You owe me for America.”

* * *

Since Mari resigned her post, they’ve revoked her access to the major hubs. She’s resorted to haunting the hallways out of sheer boredom.

Not like she couldn’t get in, but she probably shouldn’t push her luck, not until she has leverage again. Of course, she’s still tempted to throw what sorry excuse for caution she had to the wind, sneak into the bay, and start helping the engineers patch up Unit-02 because there is literally nothing else for her to do. Fortunately, Asuka happens to be leaving Misato’s office at that moment looking as grouchy as ever.

“Hey, Princess!” Mari calls out, jogging to Asuka’s left so that Asuka is forced to turn back farther to face her. The years have taught her to take every advantage she can and give no quarter, a habit she sees no reason to unlearn.

“Not you again.” Asuka grumbles. “Don’t you have something better to do than bother productive people, _ex-pilot?”_

“Actually, I don’t! Not until I’m a primary pilot again.” Mari grins, making sure to be extra smug about it.

That gets Asuka’s attention. “Fat chance! As if I’d ever let you pilot my EVA again.”

Technically, Asuka’s EVA won’t let anyone but Asuka pilot it and Mari also has no intention of ever getting back into Unit-02, but it’s so fun to let Asuka assume. “Don’t worry about the details, Your Highness! You’ll see!” she says and skips off.

“Four-Eyes!” Asuka finally bellows, unwilling to chase after her and unwilling to demand that she return. Mari just waves without looking back, enjoying the sound of Asuka fuming.

* * *

“You don’t like me.” Rei tells Mari. She appears suddenly and it would surprise Mari, were Mari not familiar with the habit.

“What makes you say that?” Mari counters, not missing a beat.

Rei was apparently expecting this because she immediately begins listing off reasons. “You frequently leave the room soon after I enter, you avoid any sort of social setting in which we may have to speak for long, and whenever possible you relay information through the Second Child.” Rei pauses, “You do not even call me by my own name or my title or any other moniker. It is obvious you do not like me, especially when you do not treat the Second Child like this.”

“Maybe I’m just shy.” Mari suggests.

“Unlikely.” Rei says, “Considering how vocal you are around anyone else besides me. The Second Child has described you as ‘seeking attention in order to make up for a sad childhood and an even more pathetic career’ numerous times.”

Mari can’t really contest that, not when she’s present and ready with a cheeky salute whenever Asuka runs that line.

“I want to know why.” Rei presses. She never raises her voice above a loud whisper and it is not quite the steely determination of the girl who once faced death itself all to save a boy but instead the quiet murmur of Mari’s ghosts. It echoes resolutely in the hallways like steel anyway.

“Why?” Mari asks. “Some things are better off unsaid.”

“Dr. Akagi informed me I may have sustained some memory loss after my contact with the tenth angel. I do not know why the Second Child is so angry with me, but it has not proven productive to my rehabilitation to try and move past it.”

That sounds like what Mari’s observed of Asuka, who speaks to Rei like she’s expecting someone else and is furious when her expectations cannot be met.

“I thought that if I could learn why you did not like me I would also learn who I am supposed to be.”

Oh, oh no. Mari can’t answer that question; she’s no different than Asuka, looking for someone who doesn’t exist anymore. They’re chasing their shadows and catching nothing but empty space, lashing out at someone they’ve made to bear their own failures when it surprises them. They’re no better than Gendo, taking the parts of her as it pleases them and leaving the carrion for her to scavenge back into something human and palpable.

Rei hesitates, that steel bowing ever so slightly. “Please.” she says and Mari gives.

“You remind me of someone. You remind Princess of someone. That’s all.” Mari says, unable to articulate any further. The words slip out like sand between her fingers. “Be you, okay? That’s all you have to do. The rest will work itself out.”

“Doubtful.” Asuka’s scornful voice filters down the stairs, “When all she does is wait in her room until Command sends her orders. A perfect doll, as always.” Her footsteps click crisply against the grating of the stairs and she stands just a little too close to Rei for propriety. Rei does not move. “Well?” Asuka asks, “Anything to say?” The vitriol in her voice comes out heavier than Mari would expect, like Asuka is baiting something.

When Rei says nothing, Asuka scoffs and leans back, crossing her arms, “Of course not. You won’t do anything they don’t tell you to.”

Mari feels the urge to defend Yui well up in the back of her throat and it’s a feeling come far too late, too selfish to be any good. When she looks at Rei, all she sees are the parts of Rei that remind Mari of Yui. All of her attempts to do otherwise prove fruitless. She looks and remembers being sixteen, lost, and overwhelmed. Perhaps it had been fate then, that led her to this lifetime. Perhaps it is fate now, a second chance she does not deserve. She is not sixteen anymore.

“Hey.” she says instead, “I’ll bet you we can get up to some fun. I’m pretty sure I know where they stash the good alcohol. What do you say?”

Rei says, “It’s strictly prohibited-”

Asuka groans.

“Never mind what Misato says; she’s just hoarding it.” Mari says, “And don’t mind Asuka in the peanut gallery. What do you want to do?”

Rei doesn’t say anything while she deliberates. Progress, Mari thinks.

“Okay.” Rei finally says.

“Yes!” Mari cries, hands up in triumph. Asuka does not return her request for a high five. “This’ll be great. We’re going to get you so wasted.”

Asuka snorts, “This I have to see.” It is a thin excuse for not wanting to be left out herself.

“What is ‘wasted’?” Rei asks.

“What you’re going to be.” Mari says.

“That did not answer my question-” Rei tries to protest but Mari loops her arm around Rei’s and begins to steer them toward the kitchen.

In the end, Rei is the most sober of them all. Asuka must be dragged back to her room and she attempts to start numerous fights along the way. Mari, on the drunk side of tipsy, gets piled into the bed with Asuka while Rei takes a chair to make sure they haven’t killed themselves.

Given time, she could want nothing more than a life built of moments like these, Mari thinks. Forever, after all, may not be as long as Mari once thought but perhaps it will be long enough this time around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a good time to note that this fic is still mostly canon-compliant and that the Rei in 3.0 is apparently not the same Rei as in 2.0 (who...survives? does not survive? it is not clear. You can come to your own conclusions about what that means for this fic.).
> 
> \- In 2.0, after Mari helps Rei by breaking through the last layers of the angel's ATF, Rei tosses her out of range and thanks her. It then cuts to Mari's reaction to that. If you buy what I'm selling here, this would make it the first time Mari has heard Yui's voice since waking up :')  
> \- in 3.0, Mari tells Rei she misses her original version (who was a lot friendlier) !!! What! Does! This! Mean!!! She wouldn't have had a chance in 2.0 so something probably happened in between*. If you're following this fic's canon, you can pick between Yui and this Rei, whichever one is sadder to think about.  
> \- They get such cool stuff in 3.0 but _how did they get it???_ So far, this fic has dealt with Asuka's eye and Unit-08 (uh spoiler alert I guess this is technically in progress). It still has a _literal fucking spaceship_ , an _entire goddamn navy_ , some sort of global apocalypse, a few other odds and ends, and I guess the original gay premise of this fic to go.
> 
> * I want to say that when they wrote in Mari, they apparently had no fucking clue what she was doing there and it's unclear to me if they ever really figured it out so for all I know, this is an accidental inclusion from another version of Mari that did not make final release.
> 
> ps: thanks to everyone who's engaging w/this fic! I really appreciate everyone's comments and try to respond to specific things but otherwise feel too awkward to formally add to my comment count with a thank you. Just know that I hoard all of your comments like every other fic writer.


	6. vi. qualia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> qualia: n. In philosophy and certain models of psychology, qualia are defined as individual instances of subjective, conscious experience.

The attack on HQ came from the American Mass Production Initiative, which means that NERV Tokyo is probably _persona non grata_ to the UN. The kind that gets shot on sight. When the alarms start wailing and the lights dim, Misato can’t even muster up a token panic. It seems like every other day they go on red alert. She haphazardly throws on her jacket and rushes over to Ops.

“We’re picking up foreign objects entering our airspace.”

“Another MP attack?”

“It doesn’t look like it. They’re flying in an escort formation and the signals aren’t the same as last time.”

“Asuka-”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m already here.” Asuka says from the bay.

They’ve barely managed to put Unit-02 back together and just in time, it would seem.

“Ready artillery too. I want this over fast.”

“Colonel! One of our own’s in the field.”

“Who in their-” Misato doesn’t have to even finish that statement. “Mari! Mari!” She yells into the ground-level intercoms, “Get back here!”

Mari just waves to the cameras, “It’s all good! I’m pretty sure they’re friends!”

“What’s that idiot done this time? Just how stupid can you be, anyway!” Asuka asks. She can’t see what’s happening but anytime someone has to yell Four-Eyes’ name, it’s never a good thing.

Misato squashes the urge to scream. “Aoba, make contact with the formation lead.”

“I’ve tried, Colonel, but they’re not responding to hails.”

“Point a missile at them and see if they’re more willing to talk then.” Diplomacy is for people who don’t have Misato’s blood pressure.

As if on cue, the radio clicks in and a muffled voice filters in, “Squadron leader. I’ve got a crew with me and a package coming in hot. Requesting permission to land.” It tells Misato exactly nothing about what’s coming in but unfortunately for her, she recognizes the voice.

Misato groans. “Stand down red alert. Entities are not a threat.”

“Is it an ally?” Maya asks hopefully. She hasn’t quite accepted that they’re all probably international criminals.

“No. But it’s not an enemy either.”

* * *

Begrudgingly, Misato lets the aircrafts land. Very begrudgingly. If it weren’t for Mari’s presence, Misato might have shot down the entire squadron just to be done with it. If Mari says that he’s here as a friend then, well, Misato doesn’t trust that at all but Mari, insane as she seems, isn’t the kind to sit around waiting for death to come to her. No, she’d rather throw herself into its jaws just to see if she’ll survive.

When a head pops out of the aircraft door to wave at Mari, Misato groans at the confirmation. She still isn’t sure if she would have preferred actual enemy combatants.

“Kaji!” Mari greets, waving back at him. “You sure took your time!”

“What’s the hurry? It’s not like the world’s ending.” He asks, jumping out. “And is that any way to greet someone bringing you a present?” He barely sidesteps Mari as she rushes past him to check the cargo. “I gotta say, kid. I’m feeling a little underappreciated.”

“Appropriately appreciated.” She whistles, the sound echoing in the container. “I knew you could do it. Wasn’t sure if you would.”

“To be honest, I had my doubts too.” He scratches at his perpetual stubble, “But we can call us even for America, yes?”

Mari takes a moment to reminisce, “What a scrapheap! American engineering, honestly. Still, I really was fond of her! Such a good unit, right until the very end.”

“You only piloted her once.” he reminds her.

“And now our love will never know anything else, so cruelly was it ended young.” she responds dramatically, clutching at her heart.

He laughs, “Well, here. I found you a new love, although I’m offended it’s not me.”

“Oh, Kaji, I promise you’ll always have a special place in my heart - behind everything else.”

“That’s cold, Mari. After everything I’ve done, you’d cut me loose and leave me to hang dry like that? Truly, you’re a spook after Intelligence’s heart.”

“It takes one to know one, Kaji! And just where have you been haunting these days?”

“That’s something I’d like to know too.” Misato has finally made it above ground and stalks across to them with a barely contained anger in her step.

“Misato! Fancy meeting you here-”

“Cut the bullshit! What are you doing here, Inspector? HQ hasn’t heard from the UN since Third Impact except by way of a fleet of hostile units. What’s this all about?”

“Ah.” He says sheepishly, rubbing at the back of his head. Misato knows the move is pretense, just a tactic to disarm an unsuspecting sucker. She won’t fall for it again. “This is more of a black ops kind of delivery. Well, as black ops as stealing an EVA can be. Considering how NERV Tokyo has been delcared an enemy combatant.”

Mari, who has somehow found a crowbar, happily rummages through a crate of plug components. “Not just any EVA, my EVA!” She waves around a helmet she’s unpacked. It’s painted Mari’s preferred pink and UNIT-08 is printed on its side in bold white letters. “I thought they’d halted construction on this model!”

“They did.” Kaji confirms. “But the near total destruction of the human race tends to jostle a few cold projects hot again. I thought you’d appreciate this one.”

“What the hell!” Asuka screeches, also making her way to this spectacle along with the rest of Ops. The situation has rapidly devolved beyond Misato’s control. She cannot believe their ragtag crew makes up the premiere defense force of Tokyo.

“Told you I’d be a pilot again, Princess!”

Kaji smiles at Misato as they watch Mari and Asuka squabble. “Kids these days, huh? They still know how to have fun.”

Misato is tired of playing with monsters they’ve barely reigned in, if even that. Kaji smiles just as he did a decade ago, a reminder of kinder times, and a habitual fondness makes itself known. But, a decade later, his smile also weighs heavy, like deals with the devil often do.

“What are you really here for, Kaji?” She can’t keep that tiredness out of her voice. It’s too much - old demons and new guilts. Some days, she doesn’t know why they’re still fighting, what’s left to save, if it’s even worth saving.

Asuka has scrambled on top of the stack of crates just to yell at Mari in her face.

“Haven’t you heard?” Kaji asks, heading over to break it up before someone falls and breaks something, “It’s the end of the world. No better time to fight for what you believe in then now.”

* * *

“You going to get into it?” he asks, taking a sip of the soda Mari had offered him. “This tastes terrible. Who taught you to like these things?”

“Give that back if you don’t like it.” She paws at the soda but he moves it out of her reach. “I don’t remember you being this concerned when I got into Unit-05 which, if you recall, we _blew up._ And besides, what else would I ask you to get it for?”

“This is different.” he insists. “There are only so many EVA bodies to work on and this one’s been repurposed. It used to be a research model.” He does not say it out loud but they both know. This one is hers, in more ways than one.

“This is the job now, isn’t it?” she asks playfully.

He frowns at that. “I hope I taught you more than just that.”

“It’s bad, huh?” she asks.

“You’ll watch over them for me, won’t you? If I can’t.” he asks instead. It’s a rare moment of honesty from Kaji, which is how Mari knows it’s really, really bad.

“I’ll get in.” she says, if only to distract him from his own moroseness. “What was it you always said? Pick the vantage point with the most leverage?”

He ruminates on her answer for a moment before asking, “Will you get out?”

Mari doesn’t expect the answer to come so easily. “Yes.” she assures. There’ll be something to come back to this time. She’ll make sure of it. “Someone has to make sure your watermelons don’t die.” she teases.

It’s good enough for him. She learned these tricks from Kaji so it doesn’t surprise her when he smiles boyishly at her, as if he’d never known suffering in his life. “I suppose we’ll both have to make it then. Who else will tend to the watermelons? They’re good this year, aren’t they?”

“You say that every year.”

“And it’s true every year. I’m a very good gardener. You’re okay I guess.”

She lets them laugh at her expense. When it fades out, she’s content to sit and enjoy the comfortable silence. One never knows when it’ll be the last time one gets to visit with a dear friend, even without taking their work into consideration.

He breaks it, sighing and drinking the rest of the soda in one go. “You know, neither CIA or MI6 is happy with you. MI6 is considering labeling you a double agent and CIA is considering labeling you a triple agent. Would it kill you to file a report or two? I can only make up so many things for so long, especially now that you’re formally in what’s being called hostile territory.”

“Ah, when are they ever happy anyway? Besides, it’s about to matter not at all.” Mari says. Kaji follows Mari’s gaze to the top of HQ, where they both know Gendo must be watching. “I think things are about to get very interesting, Kaji. Maybe you should stop hiding behind the UN.”

Kaji hums as he thinks. “They’ve drawn their lines, haven’t they? All that’s left is to see where they cast their pieces and where we’ll land.”

“Don’t be silly. Old ghosts like us? No such things as lines or landings.”

They both chuckle at that, an inside joke years in the telling.

Listening to them, Misato suspects she’s been disarmed for much longer than she ever realized.

* * *

There isn’t anything about Unit-08’s pilot compatibility in its file. There also isn’t anything about Mari’s unit compatibility in her official file, despite her designation as the Fourth Child and despite the fact that Mari knew how to re-arm an EVA, pilot it, and disable its restrictors.

Misato thinks there’s a lot that’s not in any damn file that she needs to do her job. She doesn’t like it but she signs off on the decision to put Mari in for the test run anyway. Misato rationalizes it: if Mari were going to do anything, she would have done it earlier in Unit-02. Then again, Misato is very well aware that the fact that there’s even a second unit in their possession is no doubt all Mari’s doing.

She finds Mari at the cages, already suited up and watching the engineers and mechanics fuss over the baseline readouts. Across from them, Asuka is also getting ready. “You going to tell me what this is all about?” she asks.

“What, Unit-08? Can’t a girl watch them put together her new ride?” Mari asks. Now that Misato’s aware of the connection, it’s easier for her to see the parts of Kaji that Mari uses to deflect with.

“Don’t play dumb. Just who are you anyway? I don’t buy that you’re the Fourth Child, even if your file checks out. It’s too convenient.”

Mari shrugs. “You don’t have to buy anything if you don’t want to. All that matters is that NERV’s got another unit and someone to pilot it. Shouldn’t you be happy about that? What with the entire military might of the UN about to come down on us any day now and all.”

“That depends. Just whose side are you on, anyway?”

“Yours, if you can trust that.”

Ultimately, the thing that sways her is Kaji pulling her to the side before he leaves. “Take care of them, won’t you?” he says. “They won’t flourish if you don’t tend to them.”

(“Water your own damn watermelons.” she says instead. “When you get back.” When, not if. She’s never seen him smile so thinly.)

* * *

“Alright. I think we’re ready to start. Asuka?”

They’ve already prepped Unit-02, just in case Mari goes rogue and tries to...cause property damage? She’s not sure what they think she’ll do to them while in an EVA that she wouldn’t have already done. What a baseless precaution. Mari could cause so much more damage by not involving herself in an EVA-sized spectacle.

Unit-02 grinds its fist into its palm in response. “Ready.”

“Mari?”

“Ready!” It’s only half a lie. Mari is ready but she isn’t sure what she’s ready for.

“Good luck.” Misato says before Ritsuko takes over.

EVA technology hasn’t changed much since she helped invent the science. They might have improved the mechanical interfaces but at the bones of it all is Mari’s work. This plug doesn’t look like what Mari stepped into the first time but it’s still very much the same act of sacrilege.

“Inserting entry plug. Establishing connection.”

The last time Mari got into this plug, it had been bolted to the EVA and they had to hoist her in. She also disappeared into it for twelve years.

“Initiating primary contact. Flooding entry plug.”

The first time Mari had breathed in LCL she nearly drowned in it. These days, she doesn’t feel right breathing air. Such a small thing and it makes her feel painfully inhuman.

“Initiating secondary contact. Connecting interface.”

It’s like touching a live wire. Mari is her own Contact and when she reaches out for those missing parts of herself they greedily reach back for her as well.

“Primary contact phase complete. Checklist all clear. Synapse synchronization rate is...high. Too high! And rising!”

Her soul recognizes itself and when she runs her consciousness over the edges of them, she feels the scar tissue that’s healed over. But the fractured pieces Mari stole back from the LCL had never healed right, pieces shifted and grafted clumsily onto each other. The parts of her will no longer fit together.

“Short out the neural links! We need to reduce the synchronization capacity otherwise we’ll lose the pilot!” Ritsuko and the other engineers have begun emergency shutdown procedures but Misato knows from experience that none of it works unless the pilot wants it to work.

“Mari! Can you hear me?” Misato yells instead. “Snap out of it!”

Confronted with the evidence, Mari knows she cannot be whole as she once was. That doesn’t stop her from trying. Her soul isn’t so unchanging, not if it could heal over into these forms. She can feel them latching onto her, growing new connective tissues. She begins to lose the shape of herself. Aimlessly, she ponders. What new shape will she take this time?

* * *

“Launch us!” Asuka yells.

“What?”

“I can’t move in this damn room! Launch us! I’ll get her out.”

“You heard her! Get them out of there!”

Out in the open and without the cages in the way, Asuka can freely lunge at Mari. That plug will come out, one way or another. When Asuka reaches for her, Mari grabs her by her hand but makes no move to redirect her. When Asuka yanks her hand back, Mari lets her. She remains eerily still otherwise.

“What the hell is going on? What’s she doing?” Asuka asks skeptically.

“Unclear! Based on our readings, the pilot remains in control of the unit. Communications are confirmed still online but neither the pilot nor the unit are responding to hails or commands.”

She can hear the pneumatic valves vent as they release the umbilical cord from Unit-08.

“Asuka.” Misato says, equally skeptical. “We’ve disconnected the power but that still means she’ll be in there for five minutes. We don’t know what’s going to happen in that time. Can you get her out?”

“Leave it to Four-Eyes to botch up this entire thing. Of course I can.” Asuka says crankily before moving toward Mari again. What an infuriating person, all cryptic messages and meandering motives. Asuka much prefers to confront problems head on. So she walks right up to Mari and when Mari doesn’t respond, puts her hands around her throat, and squeezes.

At first, there’s no reaction and then Unit-08’s hands twitch upwards, clinging onto Asuka’s arms. Each scrape of her fingers trace over Asuka’s own skin and it only stiffens her resolve. She squeezes harder.

One hand finally comes to rest against Asuka’s jaw, fingers lightly gripping at the edge of her eyes. “Let me go, Princess.” she finally says. Asuka can hear her breathing over the channel. It comes out shallow and quick against her thumbs. “I’m behaving.”

Asuka can imagine the flitting beat of her pulse. She imagines that pulse stopping. She lets go.

“Everything’s holding steady. Synchronization has dropped to 90%. It’s high but in the acceptable range. Plug’s out of the dark and back into nominal tolerances.”

* * *

What Asuka did will leave no bruises but Mari feels the echo of her hands around her throat all the same. It keeps her tethered to this reality.

She understands now. There is a part of her that will never understand this sort of violence; she was not that sort of person when she was first lost. To be such a person now, she becomes unknowable to herself. It’s just enough that when they’re finally able to disconnect the synapses, she finds herself still present in this world.

When she makes it out to the cage bridge, Misato is already there. “Mari. This is me trusting you.” she says cautiously, “Not just anyone can be a pilot. The requirement isn’t a skill you can learn. Just who did you lose, that you can?”

Mari smiles wanely. “Everyone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hm. This chapter was split off of the last one since it ended up being thematically independent but it was also 1.2k when I started editing and is now this long now that I'm over editing it. Just a heads up this might undergo further revision I guess.
> 
> \- Kaji did not get a tag in this fic because he's a plot device for it  
> \- Kaji shows up in 2.0, does not show up in 3.0, but is referenced by someone on the bridge. It's unclear if he's dead or not.  
> \- In the original series, Kaji dies (he gets shot so it's presumably because of some spy shit finally catching up to him)  
> \- In his goodbyes, he asks Shinji to take care of Misato which I can sort of see from the perspective of "Well I love her but she's a mess and and I'm about to die and she bonded with you" and if I were writing a fic about Shinji I would think more about that beyond my opinion of "maybe you don't?" but because I'm not, I'm splitting the difference  
> \- You can come to your own conclusions about the sort of character Kaji is. I ended up on "would like to be kinder than he is."  
> \- the watermelons are a goddamn metaphor  
> \- Mari can be the Contact of her unit because Rei is technically the Contact for Unit-00 (and also all the dummy plugs and we're not getting into the Yui/Rei thing when Unit-01 rejects the dummy plug)  
> \- The original series ends with Shinji rejecting instrumentality (where everyone becomes LCL soup) and returning to physical form. He then proceeds to attempt to strangle Asuka, only stopping when Asuka pats him gently on the cheek or something. Viewers are welcome to figure out what that means for themselves. I also have strong opinions on that entire arc in the original series so whatever, it's just the prelude to gay in this one.


	7. vii. critical mass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> critical mass: n. The term critical mass is borrowed from nuclear physics and in that field, it refers to the amount of a substance needed to sustain a chain reaction. Within social sciences, critical mass has its roots in sociology and is often used to explain the conditions under which reciprocal behavior is started within collective groups, and how it becomes self-sustaining.

“What? No way!” Asuka exclaims. “I don’t need a second-rate pilot holding me back!”

“This isn’t up for debate, _captain.”_ Misato says. “We barely survived the angel incursions with three EVAs and now we’ve got hostile nations to worry about on top of angels. You’re piloting together. Partners. Get used to it.”

Asuka growls under her breath. Just what she needs, another piece of dead weight.

“You begin training tomorrow. 0800 sharp, basement gym. Don’t be late. Either of you.” Misato looks pointedly at Mari, who makes a vague gesture of acknowledgment.

“I’d be more worried about Sleeping Beauty over here!” Mari says, putting her hands up when Asuka glares at her.

“Either of you.” Misato repeats before the situation can escalate.

* * *

It would have been one thing had Asuka been assigned to a university’s care. As it is, they enlisted her in the military so it was another thing to ask a ten-year old to finish basic training. There were, of course, the expected logistical problems, the expected personnel problems, the expected curriculum problems, and every sort of unexpected problem in between.

Suffice to say, Asuka’s time in the military at large had been very much non-standard and mostly involved her, a personal instructor they must have strong-armed, and then-Captain Katsuragi making wild guesses about whether or not they could graduate her.

It’s been a while since Asuka’s been in a base gym. She hasn’t had a reason to be in one for some time. Her age and the constant whispers of favoritism made her few friends and she quite never managed the art of browbeating other enlists into a friendly fight, even after she had rank to pull. Still, the concept of the gym remains a nostalgic one for her. This one smells like sweat they can’t scrub out and cleaning chemicals being used as air fresheners, which is exactly how it should smell. It’s the smell of progress, as that ornery bastard of an instructor used to tell her.

(“You’re a little young to be saving the world, aren’t you?” he says when Asuka first meets him. He shakes his head at the thought and before Asuka can protest, he ushers her inside an absolutely rank and dingy room. “So this is what it’s come to, eh? Well, don’t just stand there! Let’s see if those noodle arms are good for anything.”)

Mari wrinkles her nose when she steps inside and from that moment, Asuka knows her victory is assured, no matter what the task is.

“Good to see you both on time.” Misato said. “I’d hate to have made you start out the day running laps.” She gestures to the ring, “But we’ll start simple - get warmed up and then into the ring. Go until someone taps out.”

Asuka looks at Mari with suspicion and contempt. “With her? Really?”

“Is there a problem, Asuka?” Misato asks.

“Come on, Misato. You know I could take her on in a fight easily. I’d kick her ass.”

“Oh?” Mari interjects. “Is that a challenge I hear?”

Asuka turns to round on her but Misato interrupts. “Then you’ll have no problem proving it. Although I would hope that Mari is just as good as her record says. Same as yours does about you, Asuka. And regardless of the outcome, it’s good to know what the other is capable of. How else can you trust each other on the field?”

Asuka wants to say that she’d never be caught in a situation where Mari would have to pull her out and that she’d rather lose a limb, but she knows when she’s being told to sit and play nice. Roll over. Fetch. Heel. She sighs in resignation instead. “Whatever. Don’t blame me if she gets hurt.”

Mari clutches at her heart. “I didn’t know you cared!” she exclaims. Asuka stomps off toward the chalked ring instead of responding. Her victory will be all the response she needs.

(Asuka’s first fight is with her instructor. He tells her to last as long as she can and then he lays her out in one punch.)

They meet in the middle by tacit formality. Asuka realizes that she’s never actually fought with someone her age before. She’d hoped that when she transferred to the Tokyo division, she’d be able to spar with the other pilots but to her great disappointment, they weren’t career pilots at all, not the way Asuka was and yet they ultimately both possessed a sort of strength that Asuka could only feign an understanding of. In the end, all of Asuka’s military training meant jack shit.

(When she comes to, Misato is yelling at him and he’s yelling back. “You think anyone out there’s going to stop just because she’s a kid? You pulled me into your mess so don’t pretend to give a shit about what happens to her now.”)

Misato makes a gesture to begin.

Asuka immediately presses into Mari’s space. Mari’s stance is too loose for her to do anything besides move and if she won’t throw a punch then Asuka is happy to do so for the both of them.

Mari is faster than Asuka would suspect, lighter on her feet than she seems. It’s not what Asuka had expected, based on the footage from Unit-02’s fight with the tenth angel. Asuka has always piloted the way she fights, it’s just that she becomes capable of saving the world when she towers 80m above it. Whereas Mari in Unit-02 had thrown herself blindly toward what should have been her death, here she’s content to skirt just outside of Asuka’s range. Asuka doesn’t know what to make of it. Whenever Asuka does manage to close, Mari’s guard is always where it needs to be to stop Asuka from doing any real damage.

(“You either move fast enough to not get hit or you take your hits better than your opponent. Do better next time.” She nods and then staggers back into the ring to try again. He laughs, “Not with that concussion. Get out of here.”)

“Stop running away!” Asuka yells in frustration.

“Stop trying to kill me!” Mari shoots back, unperturbed.

Asuka swings wild. She isn’t expecting to get her swing in, as telegraphed as it was, but too late she realizes that Mari had let her. Mari sidesteps easily and then shoves at Asuka, who stumbles at the extra force and no body to disperse it in. Having lost her footing, Asuka can’t stop Mari from tripping her up and pulling her down. Asuka bucks instinctively and Mari just uses the motion to roll herself into the guard position before smoothly trapping Asuka in a shoulder lock.

Begrudgingly, she acknowledges that Mari’s technique is solid.

“Giving up already, Princess?” she teases, “And here I thought you were going to kick my ass?”

Asuka tentatively pulls against Mari in the hold, although she knows it’s no use. Enough force and she’ll break her arm. Mari tightens her hold and Asuka bites back any sound. She refuses to give Mari the satisfaction. “We’re all waiting.” Mari says, smug in her victory.

It’s a victory she hasn’t earned and that Asuka won’t give her.

(“This is going to hurt.” And without any further warning, he roughs at Asuka’s shoulder, setting it back in place. “Batshit crazy.” He mutters, “but damn good win out there.” There’s pride in his voice. Asuka dislocates her shoulder a few more times over the years.)

Asuka heaves her body against Mari’s pull with enough force to break an arm. Her shoulder, already loose in its socket, gives way with a pop. Mari isn’t expecting the sudden slack and that’s all the opening Asuka needs. She forces herself to move despite the pain and kicks out of Mari’s grip. Now free, Asuka torques her body hard toward her good shoulder and rams her foot into Mari before Mari can get her guard up. It makes contact and Mari’s chest caves a little more than she expected. Mari wheezes in pain. It’s satisfying enough that Asuka thinks she’ll do it again. She throws herself at Mari, sending them both to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

“Asuka! Enough!” Misato barks.

Asuka pretends like she doesn’t hear and Misato has to pull Asuka off. When Asuka looks at Misato, she knows that whatever Misato was looking for, Asuka didn’t deliver.

Asuka is very tired of being a show dog.

(“You get what they’re asking of you? It’s war, Asuka, and nobody’s going to stop just because you asked nicely. No one’s going to save you either. Hell, you’re here to save us, so you’d best learn to how to save yourself first.”)

* * *

Misato sends them both to the infirmary and assures Asuka that they’ll be talking about this afterwards. The walk there is stilted, mostly because they’re both tired and injured but also because Asuka has no desire to talk to Mari.

“What was that about?” Mari asks, breaking the silence.

Asuka says nothing. Maybe Mari will get the hint and shut up. She should only be so lucky.

“It’s almost as if you don’t like me! A girl could get the wrong idea!”

Asuka groans before she can stop herself and now she’s done it, she’s given Mari the rise she was going for. Mari won’t shut up now.

“You could have tapped out, y’know? It’s not like I was going to break your arm or anything. Well, not like you need me to help you with that; you’re doing a bang up job of that by yourself in case you were wondering.”

Asuka snorts at that. “Grow up! No one’s going to just give you a win like that.”

Mari looks thoughtful. “Is that what you thought we were doing? Fighting to win?”

“What did you think we were doing in there? God, you must be stupider than you look and that’s saying something, you dopey-eyed moron.”

Mari laughs, “My eyes are quite lovely, thanks for noticing.” She taps at her chin. Asuka knows she’s just being dramatic - Mari already knows exactly what she wants to say and Asuka fell for it. “Not everything’s a fight to the death, you know.”

Asuka thinks Mari is too soft if she believes that. There’s nothing in Asuka’s life that she hasn’t earned, nothing that stays unless Asuka clings onto it, desperate as the drowned. She can only carry so much. Even then, she’s seen how quickly all of her favor and all of her skill can lose their currency. She’s not a kid anymore, she knows what they’re asking of her. Asuka knows the kill command by heart - they’ve thrown her into the ring and told her to be the last one standing too many times to not.

Asuka doesn’t notice Mari watching her until Mari says, “Oh,” so sadly that Asuka knows what look she has. It’s the same look that instructor did, right up until they graduated Asuka from basic and she never saw him again. It’s the same look everyone has right up until Asuka grinds it out of them. She’s never needed their pity and she doesn’t need Mari’s either, especially not Mari’s. She makes an attempt to school her face into neutrality before Mari can steal anything else from her.

“Hey.” Mari says, before Asuka can get angry enough to resume their fight right here, “No one thinks you’re not going to save the world. But it’d be easier, don’t you think, with people helping?”

“I don’t need you to baby me or anything! I can manage just fine!” Asuka bristles at the thought that she wouldn’t be able to save the world if Mari weren’t there.

Mari hums, “No, you certainly don’t need me but it’d be nice to have someone like me backing you up all the same, no?”

Asuka studies Mari’s face, checks every crease and dimple for signs of deceit. There’s none of that pity that Asuka was sure had been there earlier. No one ever looks at Asuka and doesn’t see her youth. They mistake it for innocence. Asuka would think Mari’s just like the others but then again, who else could understand what it’s like to have murdered monsters and to have become monstrous in the process? Asuka hates her, that much she’s sure of, and she’ll also make sure Mari never beats her in the field again, but beyond that, isn’t someone like Mari what Asuka hoped for when she came to Tokyo? Another pilot, someone who understood what it meant to be a pilot, someone who bore the same heavy responsibilities Asuka did and was equally defined by them. Asuka considers the possibility and it makes Mari tolerable. “Then you can’t let pain distract you like that.” she finally huffs. “No real fight ends after the first punch.”

“Watch your step.” Mari says, teasing, “It’s almost sounds like you care. A girl could get the wrong idea.”

“As if!” Asuka scoffs, “But if I have to go out in the field with you, then the least you can do is not be completely useless.”

“Sure thing,” Mari agrees, bumping a fist to Asuka’s good shoulder, “partner.”

Asuka congratulates herself on not giving Mari a black eye.

The medic reduces Asuka’s shoulder with relative ease but they can’t do anything for Mari’s cracked ribs, which will just have to heal with time.

“Keep your guard up next time.” Asuka says instead of apologizing. Mari laughs until her shifting ribs hitch her breath and send her coughing instead.

* * *

Misato doesn’t sanction any more sparring time after that incident, much to Asuka’s annoyance. That’s where she’s most comfortable and she’ll take pummeling Mari over the consequences of Misato’s stubborn determination that they be able to work together.

It means a lot of trust exercises and time spent together. Asuka hates both in equal and vast measures. She learns far too much about Mari in this time frame.

She learns early that Mari eats dessert first and then the rest of her rations far too slowly, that she somehow always manages to have a stash of those disgusting soda drinks somewhere nearby.

She learns that Mari is vapid and careless and oafish until she’s not. Then she’s nothing but a ruthless, vicious breed of efficiency. It would be terrifying to watch, if Asuka were not also intimately familiar with that brand of zealotry. And because Asuka now has the context to understand why, she learns that Mari isn’t really any more one than the other and never both at the same time but she certainly wears her skins well.

Asuka isn’t sure what to make of it, that Mari has never been anything other than, if not kind, then not unkind with her.

Working with Mari is an exercising in unlearning one of her most deep-seated reflexes: you don’t take your eyes off a spook. Asuka has been followed by them her entire life - to protect her, in theory; to ensure their asset stayed in line, in reality. It’s the one tell Mari can’t shake. She might switch between her masks freely but her gait is always too clipped to come off as anything other than highly trained.

Mari prefers to stay to Asuka’s left side, where Asuka can’t see her. There’s no doubt she does it because she thinks she has an advantage there or because she thinks that it annoys Asuka. It actually does annoy Asuka to no end but saying so would mean ceding some kind of victory to Mari so Asuka lets her stay there. At least if she can hear Mari by the absence of her stepfall then she can keep an eye on her. Metaphorically, anyway. And besides, if Mari’s there then that means something worse won’t be. Better the devil you know, after all.

Never mind that Mari refuses to shut up and Asuka can’t predict whether or not she’ll say something profoundly inane or something that’ll shake Asuka to her core. Mari would be correct to assume that the uncertainty leaves Asuka discomfited but she lets it wash over her, like oil in the ocean. If there’s an advantage to be had then Asuka won’t let Mari take it so easily. Asuka expects spooks to haunt her for her entire life, but Mari only deigns to follow her sometimes and the half-truth jars her.

She has to remind herself that Mari is her partner, not her handler. She doesn’t know when she accepted that as a truth she had yet to acknowledge.

(One day, she’ll blink and realize that at some point, annoyance gave way to acceptance to expectation. Asuka finds herself haunted and that she doesn’t really mind it this time around.)

She learns that Mari is very good at systems and patterns and plans but lacks the kind of instinct needed to follow through a losing fight until she’s shifted its tides. She has that scientist’s tick - that need to wait and see, assess the situation, weigh all the evidence, and rationalize the decision. That’s fine too, because Asuka is more than enough to lead all their combat engagements. She puts them into more bad situations than not because sometimes winning takes playing just as dirty as them, just means making your opponent lose no matter the cost. But Mari’s always been good on her word and between the two of them, they make it out more alive than dead more times than not.

All these small things, which means that Asuka is only surprised by the shot coming from behind her the first time, passing by so close that it triggers a few alerts in her HUD.

“Watch where you’re shooting that thing!” Asuka complains.

“I am?” Mari snipes back.

“You’d better not hit me, you half-blind idiot.” Asuka mutters.

Mari never does and Asuka learns how best to fight to give her a clear shot. It’s just another fundamental part of her that has to shift, the paranoia of an enemy at her back. But Mari doesn’t miss and Asuka learns instead that the only enemies behind her are dead ones.

* * *

All of these small things, and they all end up here, with her clinging onto an angel and no other options. She hears the sound of Mari reloading her gun and shifting into a better position to get the shot she wants. “Drop!” Mari yells.

A Dirac Sea lurches beneath her, ever greedy. Her grip slides further out of her control with every passing second and she only has one chance to get this right. There’s no time to think about her decision.

All these small things, which means that she lets go. Behind her, Mari’s shot whistles through the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you can tell how much I hate editing a chapter by how long it takes me.
> 
> \- There are thirteen angels in rebuild. Zeruel is considered the 10th and the angel inside Mark .06 is the 12th, which means I got to pick one angel to add and I picked Leliel ([source](https://wiki.evageeks.org/Leliel))  
> \- a Dirac sea is an actual real-world theory ([source](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dirac_sea)) and, as far as I understand quantum mechanics, has nothing to do with the black hole nature of the Dirac sea in NGE but it sure sounds cool. It's the science version of all the religious references that are also mostly here for the aesthetic so it's pretty on brand.  
> \- The sodas come from a scene in 3.0 where Mari is chilling with a six-pack of drinks (with straws! Because LCL is a liquid!!! Not that she isn't probably drinking LCL too but it's the thought that counts) while recharging her unit and meanwhile Asuka is on the ground yelling at a giant expanding core object to get off her lawn and take the apocalypse with it. 10/10


	8. viii. event horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> event horizon: n. a boundary in spacetime beyond which events cannot affect the observer. Often, this is described as the boundary within which the black hole's escape velocity is greater than the speed of light. Once a particle is inside the horizon, moving into the hole is as inevitable as moving forward in time - no matter what direction the particle is traveling.

“Hey.” Mari says. “I hear they fished your eye out of the LCL. You want it back?”

Asuka stops her yelling at the technician to throw a dirty look at Mari. Even with one eye, it’s quite striking, perhaps moreso because of it.

“Piss off, Four-Eyes.” she spits out before turning back to bark at the technician fretting about her, “And get that thing away from me!”

“Ma’am, the colonel said-”

“If Misato wants me to wear that thing, she can come shove it into my face herself, unless you’d like to try?” She tears off her eye patch to reveal the empty socket of her eye; all the better to bare her fangs with.

The technician, apparently fresh from the academy and ill-equipped for the warfront, blanches.

Asuka scoffs. “Didn’t think so.” and gets up, shouldering past Mari along the way.

“Ma’am! Ma’am! Wait! We haven’t finished-”

“And tell someone to find me a new plugsuit!” She yells, storming out into the hallway. Mari shrugs off of the doorway to follow her.

“What now, Four-Eyes? Haven’t gotten a good enough look?” There is a tenseness in her words, coiled too tightly and ready to snap loose at any hint of provocation.

Something about the way Asuka is makes the constant stream of if-else-then in her head stutter, throwing her off her balance even when the ground beneath them is solid. The math of her doesn’t add up. There’s enough computer scientist in her for it to grate, enough scientist in her for her to want to prod at it.

Instead, she says, “Not everything is about you, you know! I was just headed this way and stopped by to see how you were doing. No need to be so ungrateful!”

Asuka narrows her one eye in suspicion, clearly disbelieving Mari’s good intent, but her focus is somewhere else and she doesn’t have a retort ready. It would be so easy for Mari to nudge that anger off course and see where it lands but Mari isn’t sure what hypothesis she’s testing against yet. When Asuka veers left, toward where Misato will be, Mari lets her split off without comment.

They actually didn’t find anything of Asuka’s eye in the LCL when they cleaned out the plug, no trace of viscera or flesh. Classical physics states that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only converted or moved.

Mari wonders what Asuka brought back with her, to have left her eye elsewhere.

* * *

“Your goal is to reach the end of this obstacle course.” Misato says. “There is no reward for getting there first. In fact, if the two of you don’t make it to the end together, there’ll be a penalty.”

Asuka groans as Misato ushers them to the start of the course. It’s the standard layout for basic combat training and Mari suspects that Asuka also knows from experience that it’s meant to be impossible for a person to traverse alone. Knowing Asuka, she’s also going to try anyway given that Mari is the alternative. Not that Mari would mind doing it solo. If Mari’s job came with a job description, it would probably be “literally do the impossible” but watching Asuka gripe her way through promises to be entertaining and therefore will be a better use of her time.

As predicted, Asuka attempts the first obstacle, a wall too tall for a single person to scale alone and promptly falls flat on her ass cursing the entire way up and down. Mari gets a good laugh in before taking pity on her. She gestures at Asuka, interlocking her fingers so that she can help shove her up.

“It could be worse.” Mari says. “We could be doing trust falls at a corporate retreat.”

“What the hell-” Asuka grunts as she bodily hauls herself over the wall before, with only some reluctance, reaching down to hoist Mari up, “are trust falls?”

“Never mind.” Mari says, stopping to lean the plank against the wall before pulling herself up quick as she can.

At the top, Asuka is frowning at the chain bridge on the other side. “Have you ever done this before?” she asks. The venom is in her voice is absentminded and perfunctory. It’s interesting how much of Asuka’s hate can be scraped away with the sharp edge of a task at hand.

“Too American for me.” Mari says, cautious about the ceasefire, “But I’m aware of the concept.”

“Teams are normally at least eight people.” Asuka says, almost offhandedly. “But I’m sure they only ever need four. Three, if they’re three actually competent people.”

“I suppose we’ll just have to make it work with us two.” Mari says, poking at the boundary of Asuka’s apprehension. “Just like Misato says we’ll have to, when we’re out there in the field.”

“Yeah.” Asuka says. “Luckily for you, I have an idea. Hand me that plank. Follow my lead and don’t screw this up, Four-Eyes.”

The Teamwork Development Course is a standard training module in basic and has consistently improved trust and camaraderie among the recruits. Mari always thought the results had been over-exaggerated, a way to justify the cost and commitment to the brass until it was too late for anyone to discontinue the program without a lot of powerful people being embarrassed. Asuka might be susceptible to this sort of delusion, but Mari was trained by one of the best spies across the geopolitical spectrum.

As it happens, Asuka’s commitment to the scenario is infectious and toward the end of the exercise, Mari finds herself equally committed to finishing strong. It’s annoying that she saw the ploy and fell for it anyway. Asuka is fun to provoke and unfortunately necessary for Mari’s plans, but otherwise Mari would have preferred that they retained a sort of detached professional distance. It is hard to keep to those distances when they are each other’s only literal anchor, hanging by a rope above a muddy pit.

Misato designates Asuka as the injured soldier at the last station, making the task even more difficult for the two of them. There’s a litter but it would be almost impossible for Mari to set up the bridge and then drag Asuka and the litter across in the allotted time.

Asuka grimaces. They’ve been going in circles about this for three minutes. Stations come with five minutes of planning, an advantage they finally started using around the third station. Misato has not been stingy about letting them know how much time they’ve been taking. “Okay. Say you splint me. How are you going to get me across?”

“Fireman’s carry. We’d only need half the bridge width. It’s the fastest way.” Mari says. Asuka makes an unhappy face at that. “You know I’m right. Besides, you’re supposed to be unconscious! Pretend like it’s not happening.”

Asuka rolls her eye at the kayfabe. “Don’t you dare drop me. Misato won’t be able to stop me from really kicking your ass if you do.”

Mari can’t imagine Asuka ever agreeing to this if they’d had to start at this station. TDC really was a stupidly effective course. When they present their plan to Misato, she immediately calls foul on it.

“She’s supposed to be litter-carried.”

“I don’t think any rules apply in a life and death situation like this.” Mari counters.

“She could be injured.”

“Then this is still the best she’s going to get in this situation. You can’t think that it’d be faster for me to set her up on the litter, set up the bridge, carry her across, and then clean up after us. Actually, now that I say it, how come I have to do all the work? Princess, back me up here.”

Asuka looks indifferent, probably unhappy about having to be splinted and carried, but she says “You know I hate agreeing, but it’s a good point. Why am I being taken out of the scenario?” Having caught the trail of a conspiracy, Asuka’s ire lands on Misato. “If anything, _she_ should be the one injured.”

“Or...neither of us should be injured?” Mari suggests. Asuka had been so close too. “The standard instructions for this uses a dummy.”

“Or that.” Asuka agrees, finding the proposition sensible.

Misato looks between the two of them, united in their opposition. She looks pleased and Mari realizes that this is exactly what Misato had wanted. It’s a clever trick, one that Mari hadn’t expected from Misasto.

“The dummy’s injured then.” Misato acquiesces easily; the exercise is already a success in her eyes. “Get it across. You’ve got twenty minutes.”

It’s a shame, Mari thinks, helping Asuka lug the litter across their makeshift bridge; Asuka isn’t a terrible person when she isn’t trying. It isn’t hard for Mari to imagine a world where they could have been friends. She idly traces out the sort of history that would have had to happen, for it to be a possibility.

“Keep up!” Asuka grunts out, “You’re slacking on your side.”

It is a lot of history.

At the end of all of the obstacles, they’re both muddy and sweaty. It was almost impossible to not fall into one or two pits, given that they were doing work meant for at least four people. Misato appraises them with a keen eye. “Good work out there.” she finally metes out. Asuka preens under all that mud.

“You did alright.” Asuka passes along to Mari. “Not as bad as I thought you’d be.”

“High praise coming from you.” Mari says dryly.

Asuka sneers, the illusion of the exercise falling apart, “Best someone like you will get.” and marches off to the showers.

* * *

The first time Mari actually sees Asuka, Asuka’s just been moved from quarantine to ICU, where she lies ever-dormant.

She chases the memories of her ghosts the least in Asuka, out of all of this generation’s Children. Seeing Shinji, hearing Rei, that had hurt in a way she hadn’t thought she still remembered how to hurt. Asuka may have Kyoko’s face, but Mari had known less of Kyoko and so it does not hurt so much to see her daughter now.

It hurts though, to remember Kyoko’s daughter because inevitably, it means that she must remember Kyoko and then Yui, and subsequently Yui’s _husband_ and _son._ But, it would be unforgivable to forget and so Mari looks at Asuka and sees Kyoko’s daughter, drowns in the roaring flood of memories that such a face dredges up.

Kyoko’s daughter has her temper but little else of her in her bones otherwise - there’s none of her good graces, her sharp scientist’s mind, or her sure hands. It makes it easier to watch her. Mari does and traces out the shape of Kyoko made evident in her absence. The incongruity is a thorn in her side.

So no, Mari doesn’t have any particular interest in getting to know Asuka but Misato says “You’re going to be piloting together.” and Mari supposes she’ll just have to live with the constant reminders of her wounds, old ones split fresh open again.

* * *

Mari steps into the mess hall and it falls quiet. The rank and file soldiers stare at her with open hostility and the support staff seems particularly interested in the walls around her. It doesn’t surprise her; by now the story of how she co-opted and piloted Unit-02 will have made its way around the entire base and become inflated into legend. She’s not sure she wants to know what they think the story behind Unit-08 is. EVAs tend to have that effect on people. Still, it would be nice if they remembered that she did pilot an EVA to help save everyone’s lives.

Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Maya waving to flag her over. Beside her, Asuka’s face tells Mari exactly what Asuka thinks of Maya’s idea. Rei, across from them, shows no sign of caring one way or another. If Mari had been a typical pilot, it wouldn’t be hard for her to imagine ending up at their table without Maya’s invitation. Pilots and command staff tended to drift together naturally – their work might need the support of the military to chug along but there was a huge chasm between what they were here to do and what the military was here to do.

“That was brave of you.” she says to Maya, setting her tray down.

Maya shies away at the compliment. “Dr. Akagi cleared you for pilot duty, so you can probably be trusted.” she admits.

“Probably?” Mari teases.

“You are.” Maya hurries to say.

“I’m just kidding.” Mari says, “You probably shouldn’t trust me! Who knows what sort of devious things I’ll get up to, now that I have permission to get into an EVA.” She winks at Asuka and then leans over to steal her dessert. It’s chocolate cake today.

“Hey!” Asuka yells, reaching back for it. Mari licks the entire thing before offering it back. Asuka recoils from the slice in disgust before she predictably channels the disgust into into anger. She grabs her cup and dumps the contents over Mari’s head before storming off.

Mari loosely shakes off the water, her pigtails swinging from the motion and getting some of the water over Maya and Rei. “Oops.” she says, somewhat apologetic. “My bad.”

“You shouldn’t antagonize her like that.” Maya chides, handing her a few napkins. “Aren’t you two supposed to be working together? I heard that Misato’s thinking about sending you both out next time.”

“We’re just getting to know each other. What’s a dessert between two people who’re supposed to make sure the other doesn’t die out there, hm?” She asks, enjoying the spoils.

Maya shakes her head. Beside her, Rei quietly dabs away the water from her face.

“You, ah, you missed a spot.” Mari says, offering one of the napkins. Her attention is constantly split when she speaks to Rei. It remains impossible for Mari to acknowledge Rei and not also call to mind her haunted memories of Yui. It’s not fair to Rei, but Mari does not live in a particularly fair world.

“That was silly of you.” Rei finally speaks. The word comes out haltingly, like she’s trying it out. She takes the napkin and also Mari’s dessert, wrapping it up. “You should give this to her and apologize.”

Mari never could say no to Yui. “Only because you asked so nicely.” she says, hopes it sounds like she’s joking, and leaves as fast as she can without arousing suspicion.

When Mari knocks on Asuka’s door, she hears the shuffling of Asuka behind it but Asuka doesn’t come to answer. Mari draws a small cat face on the napkin and scribbles a small speech bubble next to it “for you! :3c” before leaving the offering by the door. It’s not there when she loops back around.

The next day, Mari is already at the table by the time Asuka gets to it. Asuka deliberates for only a moment before sitting down next to Mari.

Mari doesn’t steal her dessert. It’s progress.

* * *

She doesn’t trust herself to watch Rei, so she watches Asuka instead.

It’s not hard to suss out Asuka’s emotions behind her anger. She’s always reaching for it but she paints it on so thinly that Mari can’t believe no one has ever been able to look any closer. Maybe no one has bothered.

(jealousy) “Always angry about something, that one.” the lab tech says behind her, shaking his head. He barely had a chance to print off their readouts before Asuka stalked off with hers. She’s still outperforming Mari, but only barely. They have range time later today and that won’t improve Asuka’s mood at all.

(regret) “You just missed her. She looked angry about something.” Rei says, when Mari greets her in passing. Mari isn’t sure when everyone started assuming that they’d be found together. In any case, she isn’t surprised that Asuka harbors so much resentment. It had taken Mari some time before she managed to scrape together enough of the story. Asuka had been kind and it cost her dearly. It is no fault of Rei’s but how can Mari judge, when she harbors so much guilt herself? “Actually, I was looking for you! Come on, I need a lookout for what I’m about to do.” Yui would have never, not without knowing every detail of whatever harebrained scheme she and Kyoko were up to, but Rei is only gently amused and plays along with what passes for good humor for her. She thinks she’s improving.

(hurt) Sometimes Mari catches Asuka staring out the window, toward where the corpse of Unit-01 remains. They have so far been unable to retrieve its pilot. It’s impressive how angry Asuka can make a banal act like staring look. Mari can recognize heartbreak when she sees it. It’s a familiar face to have worn. Somehow, Asuka manages to make the incident her fault. “Well?” she snaps, “What are you waiting for? We’re going to be late for tests.” She does not look back when she walks away and Mari trails behind her anyway, to Asuka’s left where she will not be able to see her.

It’s so transparent, Mari doesn’t know why no one’s called Asuka out on it. Maybe that’s Asuka’s power. She disbelieves so forcibly that everyone else becomes consumed by her reality.

She thinks Asuka must be very lonely, to be so desperate. She can understand the sentiment.

There are faces that are only recognizable to Mari - the furrow in Kyoko’s brow when she’s concentrating on a particularly difficult problem, the downturn of her mouth when the solution eludes her, her shameless smirk when she’s succeeded. She wonders if Asuka knows that she was not the first to wear them.

In a kinder world, Asuka would have been an exemplary officer, decorated head to toe with awards of every kind and measure.

In the kindest world, Asuka would have never had to fester such sharpness.

In their world, which is neither, Asuka is a brilliant soldier. There was no room for her to be anything but brilliant or anything but a soldier. They needed Asuka the pilot, not any other Asuka and so Asuka has never had the chance to be anything but. Birth, of course, made her the only eligible candidate but everything else has been earned through her own sacrifice. Anyone who says otherwise has almost certainly been violently corrected.

She would sacrifice herself and all of them and everything for even the smallest, most pyrrhic of victories. She has no working knowledge of tactical engagements. Her only strategy is to hit first, hit back harder, dig her heels in deeper, and keep fighting.

For these reasons, Asuka fights like hell torn asunder, loosed upon the world, and wins in ways Mari doesn’t think to consider but give her a war to plan and she’ll fall apart, easily routed and outmaneuvered, the thought of a quiet victory unbearable. She is the brightest spark of them all, burning herself at the pyre. This is fine because Mari has spent this lifetime winning wars from the shadows and Asuka, beautiful in her violence, casts them deep and long from the front lines.

Mari thinks that there is nothing soft about Asuka. She isn’t even sure there’s a memory of softness in Asuka, who has long since gathered up any such instances and reshaped them to be as sharp as she is. Mari can understand that. Asuka would have had to have been sharper than her keepers, to have survived when they gave her a sword and told her to fall on it.

Mari isn’t like that at all - the years have certainly congealed over her, like film on the rocks at the shore, but the core of her has always been soft. Even now, when she closes her eyes and breathes deeply, she can’t help but remember being young and hopeful, can’t help but want.

There is a space in Mari’s heart where she keeps her nostalgia for her life a lifetime ago and her faith that they will rebuild a world worth living in. If there is a similar space in Asuka, it is indistinguishable from the rest of her; all of her being has always been dedicated to surviving.

Mari has gone to war and come home from it. For Asuka, home and war are one and the same.

There is also a space in Mari’s heart that aches like the thorn in her side when she looks at Asuka. It would be pity, if Mari thought Asuka would tolerate such a thing.

* * *

It doesn’t surprise Mari that Asuka can’t match her on the range. There’s too much motion roiling just under her skin that she could never be still enough to let the world just move around her. The target snaps in the wind and Asuka always hits it a moment too soon or a moment too late, the shot going wide in the present. She compensates by firing the entire clip, a horrendous affair as unsubtle as its instigator.

Mari only ever needs one shot. She already knows where the bullet will go; she’s just waiting for the world to catch up.

So it also doesn’t surprise her that they assign her unit to test out the new rifle configuration. Asuka seethes but she knows just as well as Mari that Mari is, by leagues, the more qualified candidate and to say anything would only give voice to her own doubts.

(Asuka carries the world on her shoulders, which bow under its weight. Her gaze remains ever defiant, teeth bared at anyone who would dare try and lessen the brunt of her burdens.)

As with many things involving NERV, tests happen under live conditions. Which is to say, it happens while they’re under attack.

Her opponents move so slowly that Mari bets she could set up the shot, leave, come back, and still hit her target.

The problem is that Asuka doesn’t.

Asuka has always been a good fighter, both technically and practically. She’s unpredictable in motion and decisive in her strikes. Mari sets up the shot, only to find that Asuka has routed the fight in an entirely different direction, rendering Mari’s planning useless.

It makes the shot difficult. But difficult doesn’t mean impossible. Mari refocuses her sight onto Asuka - where Asuka is, so too will the fight. She moves fast enough that Mari has to track her by as much reflex and instinct as deliberate choice.

The shot whistles past Asuka’s pylon, burying itself into the creature’s head. The second shot tears through the neck and Asuka finishes the job, reaching inside the torso to crush the core.

“Watch where you’re shooting that thing!” she snaps, annoyance sharp in her voice.

They figure it out. Mari learns to provide cover fire, giving Asuka the space she needs to brawl with her targets, and Asuka learns to throw her enemies, letting Mari finish them. Between the two of them, they could tear apart entire empires.

They become a habit, a pattern.

* * *

When the alarms start flashing and the loudhorns start blaring about an angel attack, Asuka and Mari are in the gym because Asuka insisted that if they were going to dedicate time to the range, they were also going to spend time in the ring. Mari thinks they’re mostly there for Asuka to have an outlet to vent her frustration. Not that Mari minds, since she’s the one continuously frustrating Asuka. It’s an even trade, she figures.

“Great. Finally.” Asuka says, unwinding her wraps, tossing them in a bin before rushing out. “Stop dropping your left arm. I swear if that’s what gets you killed, I’m going to personally tear off Unit-08’s arm and beat you with it.”

“We’ll match then!” Mari says, pitching her tone to a higher register she knows annoys Asuka. “And besides, I’m backup, remember? Pretty sure it’s your job to make sure they don’t get to me!”

Asuka sighs, familiar with the lines. “Typical. Just what I expected from a slacker like you.” she says, with absolutely no heat behind the words.

“It showed up in the middle of the city with no warning.” Misato tells them when they’ve launched. “And the shadow is too big for the object to be casting it. We’re not exactly sure what that means for the rest of the body.”

“Invisible?” Mari wonders. It makes no sense for an invisible object to cast a shadow, but many things about what they do don’t make sense. Who knows what sort of esoteric physics is at play here.

“Is that even possible?” Asuka asks. “It’d have to be huge.”

“All we know from scans is that it’s definitely an angel. No matter how much we don’t understand, it’s still our job to neutralize it. You’ve got command, Asuka. Let us know what you need.”

“Four-Eyes, can you make the shot from here?”

“It’s not even moving.” Mari complains but she aims her scope. “It’ll be easy.” Unit-08 was built with the latest magnification technology and the gun she favors is the long-range model. It really is as easy as she says.

No one is surprised when the bullet doesn’t do anything.

“Maya?”

“I can confirm that the bullet didn’t go any further. You did hit the angel but it doesn’t seem to have had any impact.”

“It’s never easy.” Asuka says, pointedly at Mari. “I’m going to take a closer look. Cover me, if you think you can manage that.”

“You could ask nicely, you know” Mari says, shouldering the rifle to follow. There isn’t much point in being this far out anymore.

“That was nice.”

It’s not far to the edge of the shadow and this close, the presence of the shadow makes even less sense.

Mari considers the evidence. Their EVAs cast huge shadows and even at the base, their shadows aren’t as dark as the angel’s shadow. “I don’t think this is a shadow.” she says.

“Well what is it then?” Asuka demands, stepping onto it.

Or, well, into it. Instead of meeting with the ground like everyone expects, Asuka ends up slipping since her foot sinks into the shadow. “Oh shi-” she yelps, clawing against a building for purchase before she falls in entirely. Her arm carves through the facade until she manages to stop herself against the concrete foundation. “What the hell was that?” she yells, clambering up to the roof.

“A Dirac sea.” Ritsuko says. “I had my suspicions. Thank you for confirming them. What you’re looking at isn’t the angel, it’s the shadow.”

“That thing is _not_ a shadow!” Asuka shrieks.

“No. What you think is the body is the shadow. That black hole on the ground is the angel.”

Mari’s specialties, like many scientists who work on the Evangelion project, are computers and biology and all of the odd science that crops up when you attempt to interface the two. Higher order physics is not normally included in this mix. If what Ritsuko is saying is true, that would mean that the angel is projecting a physical manifestation of its shadow into this world, or at least what would be considered a shadow. It’s certainly interfering with light but the translation between its dimension and this one isn’t immediately apparent. If it’s manifesting as a thin layer of a pocket dimension _and_ a physical shadow, then it bears the question-

“Well then where the hell is the core?” Asuka asks, as practical as always. No respect at all for the violations of physics they’re witnessing here whatsoever.

Mari sticks her hand into the dimension. It enters frictionlessly. It would be easy to fall in, even knowing that it’s an infinite fall to the bottom. She wiggles her fingers and brushes up against the nothingness.

“It’s moving.” Asuka interrupts. Sure enough, Mari can see the ripples in its striations. When she stills her hand, the shadow stills as well. At least, until the ground beneath them starts rumbling. Then, the buildings start sinking.

“What did you do this time, Four-Eyes?” Asuka yells over the sound of windows panes cracking and steel girders twisting apart.

“Why is it always my fault? Shit!” Mari leaps back to avoid being swallowed by the expanding dimension.

“Maybe if you didn’t keep sticking your hand where you weren’t supposed to, this wouldn’t be happening!”

“Is this about the dessert? I said I was sorry!”

“Not now!” The building Asuka’s on topples, unluckily falling toward the epicenter and forcing Asuka to jump farther away from the perimeter. From where she’s at, there’s no making her way back. Around her, the buildings have all been subsumed.

“Does it work both ways?” Asuka asks. “Does what happens to the shadow happen to the body?”

There’s a pause while Ritsuko considers the question. “Yes, I think so. But there’s no way you’ll be able to do enough damage to it in time. To compress that much space into that volume, it must be astronomically dense.”

“Of course.” Asuka says grimly. Then, to Mari, “You’d better not miss.”

They’re a habit, a pattern.

So when Asuka throws herself at the angel, Mari already knows she doesn’t have the traction or the force needed to pull off the maneuver. Asuka barely manages to find a handhold, cleverly using what little force she has left to dig her knife into the shadow and grip at it, wedging it deeper with the weight of her EVA. In the body, Mari can see the telltale red of the core twitch in response, like the beating of a heart. In Asuka’s precarious situation, it should be unsurprising that she slip yet Mari feels her breath skip when she inevitably does.

Mari is suddenly struck by the notion that at some point, Asuka had stopped being just Kyoko’s daughter and had become just Asuka. That perhaps Mari has let the past shackle her to ghosts long gone and dead, that they sink into the ebb of time and pull her with them. That she’s still here anyway, still fighting, still surviving.

And this future of theirs, newborn and uncertain, would be lost were Asuka to die of her own stupidity in this moment.

The angel bucks erratically, trying to shake Asuka off. It’s only a matter of time before it succeeds and Mari can’t get a bead on the core while it’s in motion like that.

She aims. It’ll be a hard shot, but she’s still the best.

Mari remembers shouting, hears it hushed like a whisper, and Asuka lets go.

The knife shines like a quarter sinking in the tide, the darkness of the ocean’s depths reaches up to swallow it.

The core, as it turns out, exists simultaneously in its body and its shadow. The amount of blood it ends up exsanguinating is a little absurd. Mari would be thrilled to see it any other day, but today she keeps her eyes on the bright red of Asuka’s EVA, falling away from the sun.

* * *

Even their state of the art shock absorbers can’t handle terminal velocity without consequence and Asuka lands with a crashing groan on solid ground. “Is this worse than trust falls at a corporate retreat?” she wheezes, winded from the impact.

Mari laughs. “Well, how’s that for a knight in shining armor?” she asks.

Asuka scoffs. “A knight? Please, you’re barely a crony."

Mari considers that. Their future is still new, unsteady and unsure. It could grow into nothing. Or everything. “Ah well.” she says, leaning back on her hands, “We all have to start somewhere.” Victory is sweet and tastes like off-brand soda.

Together, they get out of situations more alive than dead more times than not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jk I also hated editing this chapter but I edited in 3k words at which point can it in good faith be called editing? If anything, this is an unedited chapter, provided as-is and without warranty just like everything else in this fic.
> 
> \- This is the chapter that earns this fic's "Inspired By" tagging. Shoutout to lisettedelapin again for their superior trust exercise because they managed to fit a pun in there.  
> \- The ":3c" is how you know Mari wakes up every day and chooses chaos  
> \- The TDC is, in some form, a real exercise ([source](https://apps.dtic.mil/dtic/tr/fulltext/u2/a457418.pdf)). The ones described here are the "cliffhanger" and the "river crossing" although I obviously took some liberties with how plausible they are to accomplish with fewer people. The paper itself is also an interesting piece of American propaganda, if you are into that sort of thing.  
> \- Technically, neither Asuka nor Mari nor any other character would have gone through US basic training. Asuka serves with the German army*, Misato serves with the Japan Self-Defense Forces, and Mari isn't even armed forces she's military intel (MI6).* My apologies to the military enthusiasts reading this. The nice people at the book store already think I'm a Cold War history fan which I am not but I am not going to explain what I'm reading up on it for.  
> \- This is not the correct chapter to talk in detail about military ranks, but Asuka in rebuild has the rank of Captain (equivalent to Hauptmann in the German army). In the original, she graduated from college. IMO it's actually more plausible for Asuka to have the rank of Captain than for her to have graduated from higher education since commissions can be given without the need to go through the NCO route. It is very likely she's given the rank because of her position as pilot despite being like 12 and therefore almost certainly unable to actually complete basic.  
> \- Regardless, if you consider Asuka as a military enlist, I think a lot of her overt actions can be tied into that sort of culture, both as influenced by and as rebellion against. This is alongside her NGE-standard issues with her parents.  
> \- If you think this is all very unnecessary to the plot you are correct but just wait until you have to read my notes on the naval power of WILLE  
> \- I do not get into any detail about Maya in this fic which is really unfortunate because I think her very shallow characterization in 3.0 is so fucking funny. Her personality is literally "fuck these weenies" which is very dissimilar from her pre-3.0/original series characterization, "I'm the weenie." Like how do you go from "I'm gonna puke my guts out" at the apocalypse to "everyone I work with is an idiot and I hate that it's my problem" salty. When Rei is breaking Shinji out by smashing a huge hole into the side of their UFO, you can hear Maya in the background complaining about how useless everyone is and I am delighted that this was the sort of detail they chose to keep when editing this film.
> 
> * It is very possible I messed up the canon between the original series and the rebuild. Asuka I believe is half-American in rebuild but is still serving in some kind of European military based on what Ritsuko says about the Vatican Treaty so you can pick whatever balance of that makes this all work for you  
> ** My knowledge of this is from Wikipedia, but JSDF is so wild. Post WWII, Japan was no longer allowed to have any kind of military and instead was only supposed to have self-defense capabilities. Somehow this has lead to Japan having the fifth most powerful military in the world. ([source](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Japan_Self-Defense_Forces))


	9. ix. apoptheosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> apoptheosis: n. the glorification of a subject to divine level and most commonly, the treatment of a human like a god.

The first time they run Asuka through the mode change test they also keep Mari on standby, ready to intervene if something goes wrong. Asuka’s been stationed far enough from Ops that communication comes through with noticeable static both ways. It’s enough room for Mari to intervene if Asuka looks like she’s going to destroy NERV. They’re not taking their chances after stupid Shinji went on his tantrum, ruining it for everyone else.

Mari’s made herself a sniper’s nest a short distance away and if Asuka squints, she can see the shine of the barrel under the unforgiving sun.

“As if we can expect her to watch my back!” Asuka had claimed, “Doesn’t even do it when it counts!”

“Mmmm…” Mari hummed in response, before Asuka could realize her mistake, “Strictly speaking, that’s not true. I do, in fact, watch-”

“Whatever you’re going to say, Four-Eyes, don’t.” Asuka snarls.

Mari’s about to say something asinine, probably in a lewd tone just, to let it rankle at Asuka, when the intercom from the watchpoint clicks in. “I would just like to remind you two-” Ritsuko starts. Asuka can hear the snickering in the background. “-that all communications are also transmitted to Ops.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Asuka says. “Let’s get going already!”

She practically grew up besides Unit-02, watched them fit it with its armor and paint it the red she wanted. If Asuka only feels like herself when she’s also Unit-02, what does it mean that she’d never known what they were capable of? What other secrets does she live beside?

She tunes out the unintelligible sound of everyone running last-minute diagnostics and instead focuses on listening for the go-ahead. She’s antsy enough as it is.

“You’re clear, Asuka. Ready whenever you are.”

There it is. Mari always talks to the EVAs, asks them to do what she needs them to. Asuka thinks that’s a waste of energy. There’s no coaxing a machine, no swaying it one way or another. Triggering the Beast, it’s a command, just like every other movement. The lights dim, anticipatory. Asuka takes a deep breath and-

They’ll have to recount all of this to Asuka later. She doesn’t remember the screaming.

What she does remember is the moment of her hallowing, an obscene covenant sanctified in that glimmer of a moment stretched into an eternity, something catching on the thread of her skin, unraveling her, burrowing deep into the marrow of her. Her crown is as old and terrible as she is. The weight of it drags her down into the LCL, oil slick and tar slow against her raw and exposed nerves.

And only now, wretchedly divine as she is, does she realize how small she’d been. Asuka had always thought her rage was sun-hot, incandescent and eminent, but now her veins run molten with the feeling, her rabbit-quick heart can’t keep up with it. The blistering rage that arcs through her is pure and honest, raw and brutal, unrelenting, eternal, it is hers her god’s hers hers her-

Something stirs; its awakening sacrament, Asuka the congregation.

Her rage was never anything more than a matchstick flickering out, bright and petty and meaningless.

It only makes her angrier, something primal in her roaring. She can’t help but howl with it, feel her jaw snapping free with a sickening crack, teeth cutting on her own skin. Her shoulders pull back, the pylons slicking out, pinions thundering to the ground;

she’s free.

At least, until a bullet lodges itself in her left shoulder. Then another. Then right thigh. Her attacker isn’t aiming for center mass. Their mistake.

She very quickly finds the source, a target far off in the distance and she flings herself toward it, the four of her limbs working in slight misstep in their frenzy.

“Ah, Princess.” Mari’s voice rings out from her EVA, “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t kill me.”

Asuka doesn’t hear the request and if she did, she’s in no position to humor it, especially not when Mari follows it up with an entire magazine from her sidearm. Not that it does her any good - EVAs were built to take heavier punishment. Asuka immediately closes the distance, wresting the gun out of Mari’s hand and sinking her teeth into the exposed wrist. She tears at it with enough force to rip it out of its socket, muscle and armor both straining to prevent that eventuality.

Distantly, Asuka hears Mari grunting as she gropes around blindly with her free arm. The part of Asuka that’s still Asuka dimly recognizes that Mari’s trying to pull out her plug.

Asuka can play that game better. She twists her body mass so that she can pin Mari down, relishing in the creaking groan of metal stressed to its breaking point. In this position, Mari can’t stop Asuka from sinking her teeth into the plug entry. It’s reinforced to protect its small and fragile human pilot but each one of Asuka’s too many teeth are sharp and wicked. The metal rips apart with a terrible crunch, a crescendoing choir for Asuka’s coronation. A tooth chips off and it takes the phantom pain for Asuka to realize that it’s because Mari’s ejected her plug. But they are an unforgiving god and what is one tooth, when entire limbs have been lost in the pursuit of victory? Asuka has never seen the world so clearly and she roars in triumph, this impulse she cannot deny, this truth that lives in her bones.

As Unit-08 goes limp, Unit-02 catches Mari mid-descent, just for the hell of it. She cracks the plug open with ease and Mari splashes out. It would be so easy to crush Mari with the heel of her hand and Unit-02’s shoulder moves, arm cascading behind it. Mari looks so frail, so small, so _human._

Asuka briefly remembers that she too is human. That she’s not supposed to do this. The thought is hazy. Everything is red. Victory is so close. All Asuka has to do is bring her hand down but she can’t remember why she’s doing this. This too is a truth she cannot deny - Asuka is still human. She claws at that thought desperately; it may be all that she can still call wholly her own. What’s left of her is only offal, insignificant compared to the immeasurable hollowness of her impending godhood. It threatens to crush her, the heavy weight of such an inevitability wrapping around her lungs. She may very well drown in it.

After all, perfect certainty is a godkiller and Asuka is newly crowned.

But, still human, she is also only a matchstick flickering out, profane and bright against the cold and still body of the galaxy.

Asuka ejects. The angle of her exit fires her straight into the ground and the sound of her impact is overwhelmed by the screeching of both Unit-08 and Unit-02 falling in a heap. She immediately claws her way out of her plug, landing hard on her feet before scrabbling over to where Mari is, cradling her right arm. She must have hit it when Asuka shook her out of her plug.

Asuka pushes her against the shin of an EVA. “What-” she tries. It takes her some effort to remember that her jaw is meant to form words, “What did you do to me?”

Mari’s throat is so close, Asuka could lean in and tear it from her, but her teeth are blunter than she remembers and she can’t, that’s not what this body was built to do.

Mari doesn’t even try to escape. Asuka slams her again into the EVA and Mari hisses as it jostles what must be a broken arm. “Answer me!” she demands. Her voice comes out like gravel and she must force the words out lest she ask with teeth instead.

“Nothing you weren’t willing to do, Princess.” Mari bites out, “Nothing you weren’t willing to give.”

And Asuka remembers now, the truth of her humanity filtering back into reality, bit by bit. She’s the best pilot across any EVA program, a claim she’s bought with her blood and her life and she’ll be damned if she lets anyone take it from her, especially not Mari, who stole her EVA and her glory when she fought to stop the Third Impact while Asuka lay unconscious.

“It’s mine.” she growls, in lieu of all that.

“It’s ours.” Mari says, strangled, “Did you think you could sit in a seat of divinity and come out of it unchanged?”

There is something of a truth in her words, Asuka can feel it, marrow-deep, that same primal instinct. “What kind of monster are you?” she asks.

“The same kind as you now.” Mari says, her voice faint. Unconsciousness is close, Asuka can sense it. She’ll be left holding up Mari’s dead weight soon.

“Why?” There’s a hurt to it. Asuka knows she’s been betrayed, somehow, but she can’t quite grasp at it yet in her state.

Mari’s legs finally give and now she’s leaning on Asuka’s shoulder. Her voice doesn’t come out but Asuka can feel the shifting of her jaw and this, this she remembers. Mari carves it into her bones.

“I was a lonely god.”

* * *

So when Asuka tells Shinji it’s the curse of the EVAs what she really means is-

They meet like this too often, Asuka hunting down Mari to demand answers, cornering her to prevent any escape although Asuka’s under no delusion that she ever catches Mari unless Mari wants to be caught.

“You knew.” she accuses. It’s been years since Asuka has fallen into divinity and in that time Misato’s frame has shifted toward gauntly, Ritsuko’s hair has turned more white than blonde, but Asuka hasn’t aged a single day. Neither has Mari, for that matter.

“You’ll have to be more specific, Princess.” Mari says, in that singsong tone of hers, her lips curling catlike, sly. The sound and sight of it infuriate Asuka, who knows that Mari knows exactly what she’s talking about. She’s goading Asuka into something and Asuka can’t help but take the bait.

“Four years!” she snarls, bodily slamming them into the literal corner of the hallway, “Four years and nothing’s changed! I haven’t changed! You haven’t changed!”

“No, we haven’t.” Mari agrees, with such raw honesty that Asuka deflates against her, what bright anger she had dimming in the face of an insurmountable immortality. Asuka may be described through a great number of unkind words, but stupid could never be one of them.

“We’re never going to change, are we?” She asks against Mari, feels Mari hum in response.

“Only in the ways that matter, Princess.”

“Does it? Matter? Any of it?” she asks.

“Sometimes. Maybe not for long.” Mari answers and Asuka isn’t sure if she means that they haven’t the time or that time itself hasn’t the meaning.

And Asuka, who never had the opportunity to be a child, who would now never become an adult, couldn’t even be human anymore.

Asuka feels lifetimes older than she is, than she’ll ever look. Something settles in her, a primordial and tired sort of godhood. Mari lets her mourn for herself in silence. Who else could understand a god’s grief but a wretch of the same nature?

* * *

Mari’s arm is broken, according to Dr. Akagi. Nothing permanent, but it does leave her with a cast for the time being and somewhat strict orders to not do anything strenuous until it heals over. Asuka thinks that Mari will do stupid things anyway, making the warning useless, but she’s not talking to Mari right now so if Mari wants to go and do stupid things, it’s not Asuka’s problem.

Asuka’s actual problem is that with Mari out of commission, Misato cancels every other scheduled mode change test. Misato claims that they can’t risk it while Asuka is the sole EVA pilot on active duty. Asuka is fine with that, it’s the waiting she finds intolerable. It infuriates her that Mari supposedly managed the Beast fine on her first attempt while Asuka nearly killed their only other pilot. Asuka’s itching for another shot to prove herself and all the while hates that she even needs a second chance, hates that no matter what she does now, Mari’s words will plague her.

She can’t stand that Mari was right. It feels like Mari’s stolen something from her, a truth she didn’t deserve and now that it’s not just Asuka’s anymore, Asuka will never be able to get it back. She’ll never be able to pilot again without remembering that moment, Mari tangled up in it, an impossible knot to unwind.

Asuka was always going to give up everything to be the best. She can still hate Mari for setting up the board to ensure that Asuka was damned in the process though.

She needs to punch something. Maybe Mari. Maybe her broken arm.

As if Providence itself were telling Asuka that no, she shouldn’t, the lights flicker red and the alarms start blaring.

Asuka will just have to punch a blasphemous aberration instead.

* * *

“You’re going out there alone today, Asuka, so be careful.” Misato reminds her.

“You say that as if Wonder Girl or Idiot Shinji ever did anything.” Asuka says, which is blatantly untrue. The memory of her failure is a heavy one but she’s alone today and needs to remember that she’s always been alone and has always survived despite it. Because of it.

Trusting other people has always let her down.

Ever since the near-Third Impact they’ve lost contact with the other branches and since then, strange EVA-like beings have been showing up on their doorstep. These ones have no designation but occasionally when she tears off one of its arms, she catches the weathered MP label underneath the fleshy growths. At a distance, one could be forgiven for suspecting it was another EVA.

She suspects that they may truly be the last defenders of humanity in those moments.

“Just another one of our everyday highly dangerous engagements.” Asuka complains to Ops, “I’ll be done in time to make it to mess for whatever disgusting slop we’ve managed to scrounge up today.”

“Meatloaf.” Misato tells her humorlessly. The joke is that it’s always meatloaf. The real question is what the meatloaf will taste like.

“I got this.” she says and cracks Unit-02’s knuckles, the sound of metal scraping discordantly a familiar comfort. Then, she’s off.

At a distance, one could be forgiven for mistaking these abominations for EVAs. Up close, however, that’s a lethal mistake, something Asuka finds out very quickly when the thing grows a third arm and uses it to pummel her into the ground.

“Oh, come on!” she shouts, rolling away from a hit that probably would have crushed her head in.

“Asuka? Report!” Misato demands.

“Bigger than expected.” she wheezes back, “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Third arm or not, the thing still has enough human shape for Asuka to grapple with it. She ducks under an arm and slips into the crook of another, pulling out her knife and slicing through the tendon and bone of the last arm before jamming the knife into its neck for good measure. She wrenches the remaining arms behind it and grinds her foot into its lower back. It’s perfect, really, core exposed for Mari to-

Damn it. Asuka forgot her own rule – she’s always been alone.

Things that look human don’t necessarily have human weaknesses and a knife in the neck means nothing to an amorphous entity that exists simultaneously in whatever form it happens to have taken on. Her knife slips out with a neat pop and, just her luck, it grows another arm to grab at it and then shove it into her left eye.

Well, it’s not like she had a left eye to lose anymore.

“Asuka! Get back!” Misato’s voice is tinny at this distance, “We can’t provide any artillery support at this range and you need to-”

She turns off comms. Misato’s good, but she’s not a pilot and Asuka knows that she can do this. If Mari could do it, then Asuka can do it better.

The lights dim and all Asuka can see is red. It has always been her favorite color.

* * *

Mari didn’t see a point in watching Asuka showboat, not when it was an EVA-derivative so lowly it didn’t even have a designation. At least, not until the thrum of something ancient waking makes itself known in the hollow of her ribcage.

“Hm.” She says out loud to the hallway, “Well, you’ve certainly made this interesting, Princess.” and makes her way to Ops.

Ops is as panicked as she’d expect it to be. Asuka’s gone off and done something wildly unsanctioned in a desperate bid to prove herself and all Misato can do is grind her teeth and yell at her subordinates.

“You’ll probably want me in Unit-08.” She tells Misato. Misato’s gaze lingers on her broken arm.

“Plugsuits are only good for amping up the sync ratio and you and I both know I’ve got high enough scores to pilot as backup without one. And besides,” she cocks that self-assured grin, “I only need one shot.”

Privately, Mari thinks it’ll be hilarious to watch Asuka’s face when they tell her that Mari shot it down with one arm tied behind her back. Front. Whatever, same thing.

It’s not like Misato has a choice and this one’s one of the easier ones she’s had to make.

* * *

Asuka hasn’t even bothered to pull her knife out of her eye. She doesn’t need to, not when she’s divine like this. Her left eye burns, godliness trying to make use of all her earthly parts, even the useless ones.

The thing’s AT field finally kicks up, a panicky flicker that throws Asuka back briefly. Even the half-dead suffer to live but it’s too late; against her unyielding violence, the AT field shatters like glass, pieces tearing at her skin. She can’t feel any of it and it wouldn’t matter anyway.

When she pounces she barrels right into the unit, sending both of them tumbling. The force of their landing craters the earth beneath them. It claws back at her, limbs sprouting out to pull her away from it, to consume her otherwise. A mottled hand grasps at Asuka’s jaw to rend it off her face and the contact burns her instantly. Its mouth unhinges with grotesque vigor and it screams at her with piercing anguish. Asuka ignores all of this, the corrosion of her plating, the scorching of her limbs; she rakes at its body with both her arms and her teeth, ripping chunks of flesh and metal out indiscriminately, singular in her task.

This close to the core, all Asuka can think of her hands at its heart and squeezing until it gives. The thought of its waning power thready in her hands only fuels her fervor and she digs her hands into the sinew with renewed ardor. She’s drunk on the image. One of her legs finally fails, whatever poison seeping out of her prey finally severs the neural connections that linked her leg up to her consciousness and sends her collapsing into the its maw, hands for teeth clamping down to trap her.

Every muscle in Asuka’s body strains. Her arm is trapped and she has no leverage to remove it. She’d tear it off herself if she could get any footing to pull herself free but her remaining leg scrabbles uselessly against the thing’s form and every second she’s in its grasp, she’s growing weaker and weaker, connections winking out, limbs failing and Asuka can’t fail won’t fail-

Asuka hears rather than sees the bullet that pierces the thing’s head-shaped extremity. It pauses its digestion of Asuka to poke at itself curiously, shifting with the motion, and that’s all the reprieve Asuka needs.

“Go to hell, jackass!” she spits out before throwing the entirety of her dead weight against what is now its stomach lining, snapping desperately at its chest until she has enough traction to worry her teeth through muscle and bone and into the core. She can feel each pulse of the core as she bites down. With each heartbeat her teeth sink deeper and deeper, the core beginning to crack instead of give.

She does finally lose the arm, the weakened joint and the rest of her body’s weight too much to stop it from tearing out from the socket. Without that keeping her trapped, she has enough force to rip the core out from its housing, bursting free with a wet squelching sound.

Blood drips from her mouth when she crushes it, mixing smoothly with her own blood and what’s left of the putrefying monstrosity. In the preternatural silence of the aftermath, all Asuka can hear is her own panting. She has to actively remember to be human again, sort out the parts that still belong to her, anger, fury, rage - no not rage, not anymore - spite,-

“You’re late.” she finally says, willing her jaw to move while Unit-02’s knits itself sealed again.

“Maybe you were just early! But get your royal ass back here and I’ll let you yell at me all you want for your own poor timing.” Mari responds.

-irritation. Asuka doesn’t know what to be madder about - Mari not being there. Mari being there. Everything.

“Congrats on not getting killed before I got here.” Mari says.

“Die in a ditch, Four-Eyes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy release day! If you're watching 3.0+1.0, I hope it's everything you've been waiting for. I will never finish editing this fic if I watch it before I do which, I guess we'll see how well I stick to that considering the EVAGeeks wiki is a critical source for these end notes and that's probably being updated as I write this.
> 
> I wouldn't say that 3.0 had any sort of narrative substance, but the small details make it a really fun movie to watch. Obviously this entire fic is inspired by those scenes but in particular, the space scene is _so good._ The sheer Americanism of the phrase "going for broke," Mari taking no shit from Asuka, the soft but cranky "damn it," Asuka stomping on the coffin like it's the connecting wall in your apt of your neighbor who's in a band! What is that going to do, Asuka!
> 
> \- Ending scene of this chapter inspired by the running gag of Asuka blaming Mari for being late (in the space scene!).  
> \- Asuka's tragedy in this fic is inspired by:
> 
>   * in the original series, Asuka is in love with Kaji and makes multiple attempts, including one very overt one, to seduce him. He (correctly!) declines her advances and tells her there'll be time for that kind of stuff when she's older
>   * Asuka sees herself as an adult and why wouldn't she? She's piloting a giant robot to save humanity. If they're willing to give her adult "responsibilities" like that, why wouldn't they see her as an adult in other ways as well?
>   * tbc I have no idea if that was intended or if it was just uh horny anime stuff but I'm interpreting it as such. The Kaji thing isn't in rebuild which is good because I didn't actually want to deal with it, just the sad part about being a child soldier and y'know, still a child
>   * So if Asuka wants to be seen as an adult, it sure would suck if she looked like a kid forever, huh?
>   * She calls it the Curse of the EVAs, which I'm assuming is a plot device to explain away 14 years (that they didn't have to put in? They're good so I'm not complaining but this is clearly a problem they created for themselves lol) but I'm making it work! And as sad as Asuka says it is!
> 

> 
> \- I think this begins the stretch of chapters that actually make up the bulk of this fic's reason for existing so idk, I hope the payout is good and thanks for putting up with essentially 25k of backstory.


End file.
